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THE BOUQUET: 



CONTAINING 



THE POETRY AND LANGUAGE 



OF 



FLOWERS. 



BY A LADY 



Flowers are love's truest language ; they betray, 
Like tbe divi _-i old, 

Where price ess -.vcillh lies buried ; not of gold, 
r c. n l*fc y ! 
I seud tr.e. floors. O de-tre-t ! an. I de«- .1 

M<eti vrords, 
e nWicAle-renlnrf'the v.^c^.t" bir?ls,' 
When breathed to thee aluoe, perchance, may seem 
All eloquent of feelings unexpressed P. B«njamin. 



BENJAMIN B. MUSSEY. 
1846. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, 

By OLIVER L. PERKINS. 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the 
District of Massachusetts. 

MAR 25 1907 







Start to i>ed ar\ Prirted 

At No. 52 Washington Street, Boston, by 

S. N. DICKINSON & CO. 



INTRODUCTION. 



Are not flowers the earliest gift of love? 

Do they not, mutely eloquent, oft speak 

For absent or for trembling hearts, and bear 

Kisses and sighs on their perfumed lips, 

And worlds of thoughts and fancies in their tears, 

Touched by the rainbow's dyes? Have ye ne'er 

prized 
Some token flower — an early rose — a bunch 
Of young Spring's first and sweetest violets, 

culled 
And given into yours by hands so dear, 
That all flowers seemed grown holier from that 

time? 
Have you ne'er hoarded such a simple gift, 
Ay, through long years, e'en when each shrunken 

leaf 
Bore not a semblance to the thing it was, 
And the soft fragrance, that had once been there, 



INTRODUCTION. 



Had changed from sweet to noisome, — and e'en 

then, 
For very fondness, could not fling away 
Those dim and faded records of the past, 
But laid the frail things in their wonted p!;ice, 
To gaze, and dream, and weep upon again ? 

L. A. Twamley. 




THE BOUQUET. 



ASPEN TREE. 

PoPULTTS THEMTJLUS. 

Excessive Sensibility. 

Why tremble so, broad aspen tree? 

Why shake thy leaves, ne'er ceasing? 
At rest thou never seem'st to be ; 

For when the air is still and clear, 
Or when the nipping- gale, increasing, 

Shakes from thy boughs soft twilight's tear, 
Thou tremblest still, broad aspen tree, 
And never tranquil seem'st to be. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The soul of music slumbers in the shell, 
Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ; 
And feeling hearts — touch them but lightly— pour 
A thousand melodies unheard before. 

Rogers. 



THE BOUQUET. 



AIOE. 

ALOE. 

Religious Superstition. 

In climes beneath the solar ray, 

Where beams intolerable day, 

And arid plains in silence spread, 

The pale-green aloe lifts its head, 

Delighting most its shade to fling 

Where streams run not, nor fountains spring. 

Its mystic branch, at Moslem's door, 

Betokens travel long and sore, 

In Mecca's weary pilgrimage ; 
Or hangs, a visionary charm, 
To shield him from the secret harm, 

The spectre's form, the demon's rage. 

In frames adult, in fervid minds, 

Its root thus superstition finds ; 

Where'er that noxious growth is found, 

There spreads a moral desert round, 

Where charity's sweet fount is dried, 

And only bitter waters glide. Cruse. 



THE BOUQUET 



Auiom 

Amygdalus pumila. 
Hope. 

The hope, in dreams, of a happier hour, 

That alights on misery's brow, 
Springs out of the silvery Almond-flower 

That blooms on a leafless bough. 

Moore. 

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, 
An undistmguishable throng. 

Coleridge. 

'T is like the spell of Hope's airy lay, 
To whose sound through life we stray. 

Mo ORE. 

Hope wears a golden chain. 

C. Clarke. 

Such is Hope ! as changeful and as fair ! 

Now dimly peering on the wistful sight ; 
Now hid beneath the dragon-winged Despair ; 

But soon emerging in her radiant might, 
She o'er the sorrow-clouded breast of Care 

Sails like a meteor kindling in its flight. 

Coleridge. 



THE BOUQUET, 



Fair Hope, with light and buoyant form, 
Came smiling through the clouds of care, 

Glanced bright defiance on the storm, 
And hung her bow of promise there. 

Mrs. Osgood. 



ACACIA, YELLOW. 

Acacia farnesiana. 

Concealed Love. 

Our sands are bare, but smiling there 
The Acacia waves her yellow hair, 
Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less 
For flowering In the wilderness. 

Moore. 

In many ways does the full heart reveal 
The presence of the love it would conceal. 



Look on a love, which knows not to despair, 
But all unquenched is still my better part, 
Dwelling deep in my shut and silent heart. 
I told it not, I breathed it not ; it 
Sufficient to itself, its own reward. 
Thou wert to me a crystal-girded shrine, 



THE B OUQUET 



9 



Worshipped at holy distance, and around 
Hallowed and meekly kissed the saintly ground ; 
Love has robed thee with a glory, and arrayed 
Thy lineaments in beauty that dismayed — 
Oh ! not dismayed — but awed like one above. 

Byron. 



By day or night, in weal or woe, 

That heart no longer free, 
Must bear the love it cannot show, 



And silent ache for thee. 



Byron. 



A1TEEA. 



Althea frutex. 



Consumed by Love. 

It is like 
The history of some fair southern clime : 
Hot fires are in the bosom of the earth, , 
And the warmed soil puts forth its thousand 

flowers, 
Its fruits of gold — summer's regality; 
And sleep and odors float upon the air, 
Making it heavy with its own delight. 
At length the subterranean element 
Bursts from its secret solitude, and lays 



10 THE BOUQUET. 

All waste before it. The red lava stream 
Sweeps like a pestilence ; arid that which was 
A garden for some fairy tale's young queen, 
Is one wild desert, lost in burning sand. 
Thus it is with the heart. Love lights it up 
With one rich flush of beauty. Mark the end : 
Hopes that have quarrelled even with themselves, 
While the heart, scorched, and withered, and 

o'erwhelmed 
By passion's earthquake, loathes the name of love. 

L. E. Landon. 



MEMONE. 

Anemone vernalis. — Wind-flower. 

Anticipation . 

My lonely hours 
Are spent in shaping forth our future lives 
After my own romantic fantasies. 

L. E. L AN DON. 

Thou art now in thy dreaming time ; 

The green leaves on the bough, 
The sunshine turning them to gold, 

Are pleasures to thee now. 

L. E. Landon. 



THE BOUQUET. 



11 



Dreams, 
Made up of star-crowned hopes and truest loves, 
And Joy's own purple prospects. 

W. G. SIMMS. 

Alas ! that dreams are only dreams ; 

That fancy cannot give 
A lasting beauty to those forms, 

Which scarce a moment live. 

Alas ! that youth's fond hopes should fade, 

And love be but a name, 
While its rainbows, followed e'er so fast, 

Are distant still the same. Dawes. 



AURICULA — SUBLET. 

Primula auricula. 
Wealth is not Happiness. 

I have tasted each varied pleasure, 

And drank of the cup of delight ; 
I have danced to the gayest measure, 

In the halls of dazzling light. 
I have dwelt in a blaze of splendor, 

And stood in the court of kings ; 
I have snatched at each toy, that could render 

More rapid the flight of Time's wings. 



V2 THE BOUQUET. 

But vainly I 've sought for joy or peace 

In the life of light and shade ; 
And I turn with a sigh to my own dear home, 

That home where my childhood played. 
When jewels are sparkling round me, 

And dazzling with their rays, 
I weep for ties that bound me 

In life's first early days. 
I sigh for one of the sunny hours, 

Ere day was turned to night ; 
For one of my nosegays of fresh wild flowers, 

Instead of those jewels bright; 

Mrs. Norton. 



AMAEMTH — GLOBE. 

GOMPHRENA. GLOBOSA. 

Unchangeable. 

Love is not love, 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove : 
O, no! it is an ever fixed mark, 

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; 
It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth 's unknown, although his height 
be taken. 



THE BOUQUET 



13 



Love 's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and 
cheeks 
Within his bending sickle's compass come ; 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
But bears it out e'en to the edge of doom. 

Shakspeare. 

Though changed from all that now thou art, 
In shame, in sorrow, still thy heart 
Would be the world to me, love. 

L. E. Landon. 

Unchangeable and generous : what, like love, 
Can melt away the dross of worldliness? 
Can elevate, refine, and make the heart 
Of that pure gold, which is the fitting shrine 
For fire, as sacred as e'er came from heaven ? 

L. E. Landon. 



BACHELOR'S BUTTON. 

Lychnis dioica. 

I with the morning's love have oft made sport. 

Ever till now, 
When men were fond, I smiled and wondered 
how. Shakspeare. 



14 THE BOUQUET. 

Never man sighed, truer breath. 

Shakspeare. 

Not a lover before thee has knelt, 
Feeling one half of the love I have felt. 

T. H. Bayley. 

Strange ! that one lightly whispered tone 

Is fur, far sweeter unto me, 
Than all the sounds that kiss the earth, 

Or breathe along the sea ; 
But, lady, when thy voice I greet, 
Not heavenly music seems so sweet. 

O. W. Holmes. 



BALM. 

Melissa officinalis. 

Sympathy. 

Is there who mocks at sacred sympathy, 
And owns a bosom from her dictates free? 
Who never longed to press unto his heart, 
At the first glance, a friend, and never part? 
Who the soft influence of a smile denies, 
And the more melting power of tearful eyes? 



THE BOUQUET. 



15 



Who an unconscious look, a word, a sigh, 
Boasts his unhallowed bosom can defy? 
O, never let him deem his soul was made 
For holy hopes, and joys that never fade ; 
For pure delights, that love can only know, 
And all the ties that cheer our hearts below : 
The tender names of husband, brother, friend, 
Ne'er to his breast their blissful sounds shall lend ; 
But cheerless, joyless, shall he Live and die, 
Nor claim in life a smile, in death a sigh ! 

M. S. J. 

Love's soft sympathy imparts 
That tender transport of delight 
That beats in undivided hearts. 

Cartwright. 



BALSAMME. 

IMPATIEN3. 

Impatience. 

With fierce, distracted eye Impatience stands. 

Darwin. 



Life of my life — at once my fate decree — 
I wait my death, or more than life, from thee ! 



16 THE BOUQUET. 

I have no arts nor powers thy soul to move, 
But doting constancy and boundless love ; 
This is my all — had I the world to give, 
Thine were its throne : now bid me die or live. 

G. Crabbe. 

I saw you every day, and all the day ; 
And every day was still but as the first, 
So eager was I still to see you more. 

Dryden. 

O, why delay the happy time? 

The hours glide swiftly by, 
And oft we see a sombre cloud 

Obscure the fairest sky. 
Then while the morn is rosy bright, 

Accept my earnest vow ; 
And O, believe me, dearest maid, 

Love's time, love's time, is now. 

P. Benjamin. 



THE BOUQUET 



17 



BAT LEAP. 

Lattrus. 

I change but in dying. 

Flowers seek the light, their beauties to dis- 
play ; 
The leaf will smile the same by night as day. 

A>'ON. 

Be such, and only such, my friends, 

Once mine, and mine forever ; 
And here 's a hand to clasp in theirs, 

That shall desert them never. 
And thou be such, my gentle love, 

Time, chance, the world defying ; 
And take, 't is all I have, a heart 

That changes but in dying. 

G W. Do AVE. 

Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be 
The faithful compass, that sull points to thee. 

Gay. 



Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, 

And the heart, and the hand, all thine own to the 

last- Moore. 



18 THE BOUQUET. 



BOX. 

BUXUS SUFFRUTICOSA. 

Stoicism. 

I love thee, yet I do not weep 

That thou art mine no more ; 
I mourn thee, yet my feelings sleep 

Id silence as before. 
A common loss might tears bewail, 

But not a loss like thine ; 
And words might soothe Love's fancied tale, 

But not a love like mine. 

M. J. Jewsbury. 

The star of the unconquered will, 

It rises in my breast, 
Serene and resolute, and still, 

And calm, and self-possessed. 

I fear not in a world like this, 
And thou shalt know ere long-, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 
I'm Mitier and be strong. 

Longfellow. 



THE BOUQUET. 19 



BITTER-CUP. 

RANUNCULUS Acris. 

Wealth. 

Bright flowering king-cups promise future 
wealth, 
And fairies now, no doubt, unseen, 

In silent revels sup ; 
With dewdrop bumpers toast their queen 
From crow-flower's golden cup. 

Clark. 

Though dark the heart that throbs beneath 

The cestus in despair ; 
What matters it? — the jewel-wreath 

Can hide the ruin there ? 

And, oh ! though still my diamonds blaze 

Above a spirit lonely, 
The world — the heartless world will gazo 

And see my jewels only ! 

Yes ! I would have them deem me blest ; 

And wealth, at least, may be 
A glittering veil for broken rest, 

And endless misery ! Osgood. 



20 



THE BOUQUET. 



CATCUFLY. 

SlLENE Pe.N'NSYLVAXICA. 

Artifice, or pretended Love 

O, I did love her dearly, 

And gave her toys and rings, 
And thought she meant sincerely, 

When she took my pretty things : 
But her heart has grown as icy 

As a fountain in the fall ; 
And her love, that was so spicy, 

It did not last at all. 



Before the gates of fashion 

I daily bent my knee ; 
But I sought the shrine of passion, 

And I found my idol — thee. 
Though never love int 

Had bowed a soul before it, 
Thine eye was on the censer, 

And not the hand that bore it. 

O. W. Holmes. 






THE BOUQUET. 21 

CALLA ETIIIOPICA. 

Abtjm Ethiopm;um. 

Feminine Modesty. 

In flowers and blossoms love is wont to trace 
Emblems of woman's virtues and her grace ; 
Both pure, both sweet, both formed with curious 

skill, 
The quaint analogy surprises still. 
Hence rose a mystic tongue, which I know not, 
Or with love's other language, have forgot ; 
At ' thirty,' one may gaze on rose and lily, 

.row poetic, amorous, nor — silly. 
Yet, fair exotic ! by this single rule, 
That thy name speaks thee of the ' Beautiful,' 
(A race by ancient gods and modern men 
Alike adored,) thou shouldst engage my pen : 
The more, that thy chaste hue of modest white 
Evokes the thought of one as pure, as bright ; 
On whose fair brow most legibly is writ 
What more enchants than beauty, gTace, or wit ; 
Of that with thy fresh circling leaf of green, 
(An artless robe, adapted to thy mien,) 
Henceforth in Flora's reign the emblem be, 

bear the name of Female Modesty. 

w 



22 THE BOUQUET. 

CimiMIILE. 

Anthemis nobilis. 
Energy in Adversity. 

I said to Sorrow's awful storm, 
Thai beat against my breast, 

Rage on — thou mayst destroy this form, 
And lay it low, at rest ; 

Yet still the spirit, that now brooks 
Thy tempest, raging high, 

Undaunted on its fury looks 

With steadfast eye. 

I said to Penury's meagre train. 
Come on — your threats I brave ; 

My last poor life-drop you may drain, 
And crush me to the grave ; 

Yet still the spirit, that endures, 
Shall mock your force the while, 

And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours 
Willi bilter smile. 

I said to cold Neglect and Scorn, 

Pass on — I heed you not ; 
You may pursue me till my form 

And being are forgot ; 



E B OUQCET 



23 



Yet still the spirit, which you see 

Undaunted by your wiles, 
Draws, from its own nobility, 



Its high-born smiles. 

Anonymous. 



1 



CEDAR. 

JUNIPEKUS. 

I think of thee. 

I thought of thee, I thought of thee, 

On ocean, many a weary night, 
"When heaved the long and sullen sea, 

With only waves and stars in sight. 
We stole along by isles of balm, 

We furled before the coming gale, 
We slept amid the breathless calm, 

We flew beneath the straining sail — 
But thou wert lost for years to me, 

Aud, day and night, I thought of thee ! 

I 've thought of thee — I ; ve thought of thee, 
Through change that teaches to forget ; 

Thy face looks up from every sea, 
In every star thine eyes are set. 

Though roving beneath Orient skies 
Whose golden beauty breathes of rest, 



2i 



THE BOUQUET. 



I envy every bird that flies 

Into the tar and clouded West: 
I think of thee — I think of thee ! 

O, dearest ! hast thou thought of me . 

Willis. 



MEMATIS. 

Clematis Virgixica. - Virgin's Bower. 

Mental Beauty. 

A loftier gift is thine than she can give — 
That q ueen of beauty. She may mould the brow 
To perfectneas, and giro unto the form 
A beautiful proportion ; she may stain 
The eye with a celestial blue — the cheek 
With carmine of the Btuuet ; she may breathe 

e into every motion, like the play 
Of the least visible tissue of a cloud j 

ive all that is within her own 
fcright cestus, — and one silent look of thine, 
Like stronger magic, will outcharm it all. 

Ay, for the soul is better than its frame, 

pirit than its teniae. What 's the brow, 
Or the eye's lustre, or the step of air, 
Or color, but the beautiful links that chain 



THE BOUQUET. 90 

The mind from its rare element ? There lies 

A talisman in intellect, which yields 

Celestial music, when the master hand 

Touches it cunningly. It sleeps beneath 

The outward semblance, and to common sight 

Is an invisible and hidden thing ; 

But when the lip is faded, and the cheek 

Robbed of its daintiness, and when the form 

"Witches the sense no more, and human love 

Fullers in its idolatry, this spell 

Will hold its strength unbroken, and go on 

Stealing anew the affections. Willis. 



C1\DYTUFT. 

Iberis. 

Indifferenc e. 

Thou ne'er didst love ! 
'T is writ in the smooth margin of thy brow, 
And in the steady lustre of thine eye. 
Thy blood did never riot iu thy veins 
With the distempered, hurried course of love ; 
Thy heart did never shake thy shuddering frame 
Willi the thick, startled, throbbing pulse of love ; 
Thou hast ne'er wept love's bitter, burning tears, 
Hoped with love's wild, unutterable hope, 



26 THE BOUQUET. 

Nor drowned in love's dark, fathomless despair. 
Thine is a steadfast and a fixed nature, 
'Gainst which the tide of passion and desire 
Breaks harmless as the water o'er the rock ; 
And the rich light of beauty shines alone 
On thy soul's surface, leaving all beneath it 
Unmoved and cold as subterranean springs. 
Love has no power o'er spirits such as thine, 
Nor comes it nigh to them. 

Mrs. P. Butler. 

Better the tie at once be broken, 
At once our last farewell be spoken, 
Than watch him, one by one, destroy 
The glowing buds of hope and joy — 
Than thus to see them, day by day, 
Beneath his coldness fade away. 

F. S. Osgood. 



CARNATION. 

DlANTHUS CARYOPHYLLUS. 

Pride and Beauty. 

I know thee proud — upon thy brow 
I have seen haughty scorn ; 

And pride becoming such as thou, 
In pride and beauty born! 



BOUQUET 



If thou wert not so proud and cold, 

And distant, unto me, 
This love of mine were not so bold — 

I were not proud of thee ! 

O, I will win a deathless name 

Among- the men of earth, 
And lead to new and nobler fame 

The land that gave me birth ; 
O, I will win the love and praise 

And honor of the free, 
And in the glory of my days 

Bring all, bright girl, to thee ! 

Thou of the proud and noble brow, 

Thou of the eye like night, 
O, listen to the uttered vow, 

And read my song aright ! 
I do not come to beg of thee 

A heart that is not thine ; 
I ask a love as strong and free 

As this wild love of mine ! 

New Mirror. 



23 THE BOUQUET. 

CfflNA ASTER. 

Aster Chinensis. 

Variety is charming. 

That loveliness, ever in motion, which plays 
Like the light upon autumn's soft, shadowy days, 
Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies 
From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the 

eyes ; 
Now melting in mist, and now breaking in gleams, 
Like the glimpses a saint has of heaven in his 

dreams. 
When pensive, it seemed as if that very grace, 
That charm of all others, was born with her face ; 
If tenderness touched her, the dark of her eye 
At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, 
From the depths of whose shadow, like holy re- 

vealings 
From innermost shrines, came the light of her 

feelings. 
Then her mirth — O, 't was sportive as ever took 

wing 
From the heart with a Durst, like the wild bird in 

spring; 
Illumed by a wit, that could fascinate sages, 
Yet playful as Peris just loosed from their cages. 

Moore. 



THE BOUQUET. 29 

COREOPSIS. 

Coreopsis Arkaxsa. 
Love at first sight. 

Let no one say, that there is need 

Of time, for love to gro- 
Ah, no ! the love that kills, indeed, 

Dispatches at a bl 

The spark, which but by slow degrees 

Is nursed into a flame, 
Is habit, friendship, what you please ; 

But love is not its name. 

For love, to be completely true, 

It death at sight should deal ; 
Should be the first one ever knew ; 

In short, be that I feel. 

To write, to sigh, and to converse, 

For years to play the fool — 
'Tis to put passion out to nurse, 
And send one : s heart to school. 

From the Spanish of Lope de Vega. 
Translated by Lord Holland. 



30 THE BOUQUET. 

CORCHORUS. 

Corchorus Japonicub. 
Impatience of absence. 

What shall I do with all the days and hours, 
That must be counted ere I see thy face? 

How shall I charm the interval, that lowers 
Between this time and that sweet time of grace ? 

I '11 tell thee — for thy sake I will lay hold 
Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee, 

In worthy deeds, each moment that is told, 
While thou, beloved one ! art far from me. 

For thee, I will arouse my thoughts to try 
All heavenward nights, all high and holy strains; 

For thy dear sake, I will walk patiently 
Through these long hours, nor call their min- 
utes pains. 

I will this dreary blank of absence make 
A noble task-time, and will therein strive 

To follow excellence, and to o'ertake 
More good than I have won since yet I live. 

So may this doomed time build up in me 
A thousand graces, which shall thus be thine ; 

So ni:iy my love and longing hallowed be, 
And thy dear thought an influence divine. 

Mas. F. K. Butler. 



THE BOUQUET 



3L 



CHRYSANTHEMUM — RED. 

Chrysanthemum Indicum. 

I love. 

My heart is full 
Of that immortal passion, which alone 
Holds through the wide world its eternal rule 
Supreme ; and with its deep, seducing tone 
Winneth the wise, the young, the beautiful, 

The brave, and all, to bow before its throne ; 
The sun and soul of life, the end, the gain, 
The rich requital of an age of pain. 

B. Cornwall. 



That on the fountain of my heart a seal 
Is set, to keep its waters pure and bright 
For thee. Shelley. 



ThIs is love, 
Which chooseth from a thousand only one 
To be the object of that tenderness 
Natural to every heart ; which can resign 
Its own best happiness for one dear sake ; 
Can bear with absence ; hath no part la hope, 
For hope is somewhat selfish ; — love is not, 
And doth prefer another to itself. 

L. E. Landon. 



32 THE BOUQUET. 

COLUMBINE. 

Aquilegia. 
I cannot give thee up. 

'T is said that absence conquers love! 

But, O, believe it not ; 
I 've tried, alas ! its power to prove, 

But thou art not forgot. 
Lady, though fate has bid us part, 

Yet still thou art as dear, 
As fixed in this devoted heart, 

As when I clasped thee here. 

And when some other name I learn, 

And try to whisper love, 
Still will my heart to thee return, 

Like the returning dove. 
In vain ! I never can forget, 

And would not be forgot ; 
For I must bear the same regret, 

Whate'er may be my lot. 

E'en as the wounded bird will seek 

Its favorite bower to die, 
So, lady, I would hear thee speak, 

And yield my parting sigh. 



THE BOUQUET. 33 

5 T is said that absence conquers love ! 

But, O, believe it not ; 
I 've tried, alas ! its power to prove, 

But thou art not forgot. 

F. W. Thomas. 



CAMELLIA — WHITE. 

Camellia Japonic a. 
Perfect Loveliness. 

Elegance floats about thee like a dress, 

Melting the airy motion of thy form 
Into one swaying grace ; and loveliness, 

Like a rich tint that makes a picture warm, 
Is lurking in the chestnut of thy tress ; 

Enriching it, as moonlight after storm 
Mingles dark shadows into gentleness. 

A beauty, that bewilders Like a spell, 
Reigns in thine eye's clear hazel ; and thy brow, 

So pure in veined transparency, doth tell 
How spiritually beautiful art thou — 

A temple, where angelic love might dwell. 
Life in thy presence were a thing to keep, 
Like a gay dreamer clinging to his sleep. 

Willis. 



34 THE BOUQUET. 



CROCUS, 

Crocus officinalis. 

Cheerfulness. 

I cannot paint to thee the charm 
Which thou hast wrought in me ; 

Thy laugh, so like the wild bird's soug, 
In the first bloom-touched tree. 

L. E. LONDON. 

looks were looks of melody, 
Her voice was like the swell 
Of sudden music, notes of mirth, 

That of wild gladness tell ; 
She came, like spring, with pleasant sounds 

iweetaflM and of mirth; 
And her thoughts were those wild-flower ones 
That linger not on earth. 

Miss L. P. Smith. 

Lovely thou art, ay, lovely; 

And sorrow shared with thee, 
: magician-changed, becomes 

A pleasure unto me. 
I . s sky, though clothed with tempest-clouds, 

Grows bright when thou art nigh, 
And tears e'er turn to smiles, beneath 

Thine angel-gifted eye. Mrs. Scott. 



THE BOUQUET. 35 



DAHLIA. 

Dahlia. 
Elegance and Dignity. 

I loved thee for thy high-born grace, 

Thy deep and lustrous eye ; 
For the sweet meaning of thy brow. 

And for thy bearing high. 
I loved thee for thy stainless truth, 

Thy thirst for higher things ; 
For all that to our common lot 

A better temper brings. 
And are they not all thine — still thine ? 

Is not thy heart as true ? 
Holds not thy step its noble grace ? 

Thy cheek its dainty hue ? — 
And have I not an ear to hear? 

And a cloudless eye to see ? 
And a thirst for beautiful human thought, 

That first was stirred by thee ? 

Willis. 
No idle wish 
To rival her compeers ; no proud conceit 
Of ner own passing loveliness, e'er stirs 
Her tranquil soul. She brightly shines 
Amid the lesser lights that round her beam, 
Eclipsing all with her effulgent rays. 

Mrs. Cushing. 



36 THE BOUQUET. 

DAISY. 

Bellis. 

Beaut7 and Innocence. 

The star that gems life's morning sky, 

Smiles sweetly o'er thee how ; 
And flowers around thy pathway lie, 

And roses crown thy brow — 
That shed their delicate perfume 
'Mid ringlets trembling like a plume ; 
While a deep witchery, soft and bright, 
Is floating in those eyes of light. 

Pure and undimmed, thy angel smile 

Is mirrored on my dreams, 
Like evening's sunset-girded isle 

Upon her shadowed streams : 
And o'er my thoughts thy vision floats, 
Like melody of spring-bird, notes ; 
When the blue halcyon gently laves 
lfis plumage in the flashing waves. 

I cannot gaze on aught that wears 

The beauty of the skies, 
Or aught that in life's valley bears 

The hues of paradise j 



THE BOUQUET. 37 

I cannot look upon a star, 
Or cloud, that seems a seraph's car, 
Or any form of purity, 
Unmingled with a dream of thee. 

P. Benjamin. 



DANDELION. 

Leontodon TARAXACUM. 

Coquetry. 

O, there are some 
Can trifle, in cold vanity, with all 
The warm soul's precious throbs ; to whom it is 
A triumph, that a fond, devoted heart 
Is breaking for them ; who can bear to call 
Young flowers into beauty, and then crush them ! 

L. E. Landon. 

I know I share thy smiles with many, 

Yet still thy smiles are dear to me ; 
I know that I, far less than any, 

Call out thy spirit's witchery ; 
But yet I cannot help, when nigh thee, 

To seize upon each glance and tone ; 
To hoard them in my heart when by thee, 

And count them o'er whene'er alone. 



33 THE BOUQUET. 

But why, O why, on all thus squander 

The treasures one alone can prize? 
Why let the looks at random wander, 

Which beam from those deluding eyes? 
Those syren tones, so lightly spoken, 

Cause many a heart, I know, to thrill ; 
But mine, and only mine, till broken, 

In every pulse must answer still. 

C. F. Hoffman. 



* DEW-PLANT. 

Mesembryanthemum. 

Serenade . 

Stars of the summer night ! 
Far in your azure deeps, 
Hide, hide your golden light ; 
She sleeps ! 
My lady sleeps ! 
Sleeps! 

Moon of the summer night! 

Far down yon western steeps, 
Sink, sink in silver light, 
She sleeps ! 
My lady sleeps ! 
Sleeps! 



THE BOUQUET. 39 

Wind of the summer night! 

Where yonder woodbine creeps, 
Fold, fold thy pinions light, 
She sleeps ! 
My lady sleeps ! 
Sleeps ! 

Dreams of the summer night ! 

Tell her, her lover keeps 
Watch ! while in slfSmbers light 
She sleeps : 
My lady sleeps ! 

Sleeps I Longfellow. 



EGLASTKE. 

Rosa rttbiginosa. 
I wound to heal. 

When the tree of love is budding first, 

Ere yet its leaves are green, 
Ere yet by shower and sunbeam nursed, 

Its infant life hath been ; 
The wild bee's slightest touch might wring 

The buds from off the tree, 
As the gentle dip of the swallow's wing 

Breaks the bubbles on the sea: 



40 THE BOUQUET. 

But when ils open leaves have found 

A home in the free air, 
Pluck them, and there remains a wound, 

That ever rankles there. * 

The blight of hope and happiness 

Is felt when fond ones part ; 
And the bitter tears that follow, is 

The life-blood of the heart. 
Then crush, e'en in the hour of birth, 

The infant buds of love ; 
And tread his growing fire to earth, 

Ere 't is dark in clouds above. 
Cherish no more a cypress-tree, 

To shade thy future years, 
Nor nurse a heart-flame, that may be 

Quenched only with thy tears. 

Halleck. 



EVERLASTING. 

Gnaphalium. 
Always remembered. 

Thy memory, as a spell 

Of love comes o'er my mind — 
As dew upon the purple bell — 

As perfume on the wind — 



THE BOUQUET 



41 



As music on the sea — 

As sunshine on the river — 
So hath it always been to me; 

So shall it be forever. 

Blackwood's Mag. 

Think not, beloved, time can break 

The spell around us cast ; 
Or absence from my bosom take 

The memory of the past ; 
My love is not that silvery mist, 
From summer blooms by sunbeams kissed, 

Too fugitive to last. 
A fadeless flower, it still retains 
The brightness of its earlier stains. 

Anonymous. 



FENNEL. 

Anethum. 

Strength. 

Above the lowly plants it towers, 
The fennel, with its yellow flowers ; 
And, in an earlier age than ours, 
Was gifted with the wondrous powers, 
Lost vision to restore. 



42 



THE BOUQUET, 



It gave new strength, and fearless mood ; 
And gladiators, fierce and rude, 
Mingled it in their daily food ; 
And he who battled and subdued, 
A wreath of fennel wore. 

Longfellow. 

There is a period in the wreck of hopes 
By the affections garnered, calmer far 
Than an untried serenity. It comes 
With the stern conflict ever, and awaits 
The passage of that hour, as if the soul 
Were girded, and had championed suffering; 
And it is strange, how a weak, human heart 
Will thus be quiet, like a hushing storm ; 
And, with a fetter on its pulses, wait 
To measure spirits for the mastery ! 

Willis. 



FORGET-ME-NOT. 

Myosotis arvensis. 
True Love. 



There is a flower, a lovely flower, 
Tinged deep with Faith's unchangim 

Pure as the ether, in its hour 
Of loveliest and serenest blue. 



hue; 



THE BOUQUET, 



13 



The streamlet's gentle side it seeks, 
The silent fount, the shaded grot ; 

And sweetly to the heart it speaks, 
Forget-me-not, forget-me-not. 

Mild as the azure of thine eyes, 

Soft as the halo-beam above, 
In tender whispers still it sighs, 

Forget-me-not, my, life, my love ! 
There, where thy last steps turned away, 

Wet eyes shall watch the sacred spot, 
And this sweet flower be heard to say, 

Forget ! ah, no ! forget-me-not ! 

Yet deep its azure leaves within, 

Is seen the blighting hue cf care ; 
And what that secret grief hath been, 

The drooping stem may well declare. 
The dewdrops on its leaves, are tears, 

That ask, ' Am I so soon forgot ? ' 
Repeating still, amidst their fears, 

My life, my love ! forget-me-not. 

From the German } by F. Halleck. 



44 THE BOUQUET. 

FUCHSIA. 

Fuchsia Magellanic a.. 
Humble Love. 

Ah ! might I breathe my humble vow, 
Might she, too, deign to lend an ear ; 

Elvira's self should then allow, 
That Armine was at least sincere. 

Wild wish ! to dream the matchless maid 
Would listen to a youth like me ; 

Or that my vows would e'er persuade, 
Sincere and constant though they be ! 

Cartwright. 

I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 

Yet, in this captious and untenable sieve, 

I still pour out the waters of my love, 

And lack not to love still ; thus, Indian-like, 

Religious in mine error, I adore 

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 

But knows of him no more. 

Shakspeare. 



THE BOUQUET. 



45 



FLOWERING REED. 

Canna augustifolia. 
Confidence in Heaven. 

Should sorrow o'er thy brow 

Its darkened shadow fling, 
And hopes, that cjjeer thee now, 

Die in their early spring ; 
Should pleasure, at its birth, 

Fade like the hues of even, 
Turn thou away from earth, 

There 's rest for thee in heaven. 

If ever life should seem 

To thee a toilsome way, 
And gladness cease to beam 

Upon its clouded day ; — 
If, like the weary dove, 

O'er shoreless ocean driven, 
Raise thou thine eyes above, 

There 's rest for thee in heaven. 



But, O, if thornless flowers 
Throughout thy pathway bloom, 

And gayly fleet the hours, 
Unstained by earthly gloom ; — 



46 THE BOUQUET. 

Still, let not every thought 
To this poor world be given ; 

Nor always be forgot 
Thy better rest in heaven. 

J. H. Bright. 



GERANIUM — SCARLET. 

Pelargonium ixquixa.ns. 
Thou art changed. 

Farewell ! and when the charm of change 
Has sunk, as all must sink, in shade ; 

"When joy. a wearied bird, begins 
The wing to droop, the plume to fade ; 

When thou thyself, at length, hast felt 
What thou hast made another feel — 

The hope that sickens to despair — 
The wound that time may sear, not heal ; 

When thou shalt pine for some fond heart, 
To beat in answering thine again ; 

Then, false one, think once more on me, 
And sigh to think it is In vain. 

L. E. Landon. 



THE BOUQUET 



47 



GERANIUM — ROSE. 

P. CAPITATUM. 

Preference. 

Before a fair maiden 

Two offerings shone : 
A blossom, dew-laden — 

A sun-colored stone. 

Thy choice, gentle maiden ! 

>T is thine, thine alone ; 
The leaflet, dew-laden, 

The sun-illumed stone ! 

The one is the offer 

Of power and pride, 
"With gold in his coffer, 

And gems for his bride ; 

The other a token 

From passion and truth, 
The pure and unbroken, 

The love of thy youth. 

She falters — though cruel, 

The struggle is brief; 
She clasps — not the jewel — 

The tear-laden leaf. 

Mr3. Osgood. 



48 THE BOUQUET. 

GERMIUM — SILVER-LEA VED. 

P. ARGENTIFOLIUM. 

Recall. 

Come home ! there is a sorrowing breath 

In music, since you went ; 
And the early flower-scents wander by, 

With mournful memories blent. 

O, ye beloved, come home ! the hour 

Of many a greeting - tone, 
The time of hearth-light and of song, 

Returns — and ye are gone ! 

Come with the leaves and winds of spring, 

And swift birds o'er the main ! 
Our love is grown too sorrowful, 

Bring us its youth again ! 

Hemans. 

Buried be all that has been done, 

Or say that nought is done amiss ; 
For who the dangerous path can shun, 

In such bewildering world as this ? 
But love can every fault forgive, 

Or with a tender look reprove ; 
And now let nought in memory live, 

But that we meet, and that we love. 

G. Crabbe. 



THE BOUQUET 



49 



GERAXIDI — OIL 

P. QUEECIFOLirM. 

True Friendship. 

"When fortune changed, and love fled far, 
And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast, 

Thou wert the -solitary star 
Which rose and set not to the last. 

And these, when all was lost besides, 
Were found, and still are fixed in thee ; 

And bearing still a breast so tried, 
Earth is no desert — even to me. Byron 



True as a needle to the pole, 
Or as the dial to the sun ; 
Constant as gliding waters roll, 
Whose swelling tides obey the moon : 
From every other charmer free, 
My life and love shall follow thee. 

Booth. 

Thou art a friend, indeed, 

Most truly true and kind ; 
Thou giv"st me, in my spirit-need, 

Thy wealth of heart and mind ! 

Mrs. Osgood. 
4 



50 THE BOUQUET. 

HIUIIII— LEU!. 

P. ACERIFOLIUM. 

Tranquillity of Mind. 

My heart is like a sleeping lake, 
Which takes the hue of cloud and sky, 

And only feels its surface break, 
When birds of passage wander by, 

Who dip their wings and upward soar, 

And leave it quiet as before. Willis. 

Its secret and its evidence are writ 

in the broad book of nature 'T is to have 

Attentive and believing faculties ; 

To go abroad rejoicing in the joy 

Of beautiful and well-created things ; 

To love the voice of waters, and the sheen 

Of silver fountains leaping to the sea ; 

To thrill with the rich melody of birds, 

Living their life of music ; to be glad 

In the gay sunshine, reverent in the storm ; 

To see a beauty in the stirring leaf, 

And find calm thoughts beneath the whispering 

trees ; 
To see and hear, and breathe the evidence 
Of God's deep wisdom in the natural world. 

Willis. 



THE BOUQUET. 



51 



GILLY FLOWER. 

Cheira^thus iiscanus. 

Bonds of Affection. 

There is in life no blessing like affection ; 
It soothes, it hallows, elevates, subdues, 
And bringeth do» r n to earth its native heaven. 
It sits beside the cradle patient hours, 
Whose sole contentment is to watch and love ; 
It bendeth o ? er the deathbed, and conceals 
Its own despair with words of faith and hope. 
Life has nought else that may supply its place ; 
Void is ambition, cold is vanity, 
And wealth an empty glitter, without love. 

L. E. Landon. 



By thy birth, so oft renewed 
From the embers long subdued ; 
By the life-gift in thy chain, 
Broken link to weave again ; 
By thine infinite of woe, 
All we know not, all we know ; 
If there be what dieth not, 

is its lot! Hemans. 



THE BOUQUET, 



GRAPE. 

VlTIS VINIFERA.. 

Mirth. 

I heard the gushing of thy voice, 

Thy laugh of happy mirth — 
A bright fount in a pleasant place, 

To cheer the shaded earth. 

I caught the glancing of thine eye, 

Its gleam of young delight — 
A sunbeam on a dewy bank, 

Each floweret's eye to light. 

And all the poet's spell can give, 

Is in this simple prayer, 
That no chill wind of sorrow come 

To ice the fountain there ; 

That no dark cloud of grief may rise, 
The pleasant glance to shade ; 

But that pure stream of joy gush on, 
That sun-gleam never fade. 

Miller. 



^-rW-v^. 



TH E BOUQUET. 53 



HOLLYHOCK. 

ALCEA ROSEA. 

Ambition. 

How like a mounting devil in the heart, 

Rules the unreined ambition I Let it once 

But play the monarch, and its haughty brow 

Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought, 

And unthrones peace forever. Putting on 

The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns 

The heart to ashes ; and, with not a spring 

Left in the bosom for the spirit's lip, 

We look upon our splendor, and forget 

The thirst of which we perish ! Yet hath life 

Many a falser idol. Willis. 

'T is a glorious cheat! 
Angels of light walk not so dazzlingly 
The sapphire walls of Heaven. The unsearched 

mine 
Hath not such gems. Earth's constellated thrones 
Have not such pomp of purple and of gold. 

Willis. 



54 THE B 0UQTJET. 

HONEY FLOWER. 

Melianthtjs. 

My love is sweet and secret. 

O, it is 
Most exquisite to have a fount of bliss, 
Sacred to us alone ; no other eye 
Conscious of our enchanted mystery ; 
Ourselves the sole possessors of a spell 
Giving us happiness unutterable. 

L. E. Landon. 

'T was like the stealing 
Of summer wind through some wreathed shell ; 
Each secret winding, each inmost feeling 
Of all my soul, echoed to its spell ! 

Moore. 

Ours, too, the glance none saw beside ; 

The smile none else might understand ; 
The whispered thoughts of hearts allied ; 

The pressure of the thrilling hand. 

Byron. 



THE BOUQUET. 55 



nOLSTOMA. 

HOUSTONIA CJERULEA. 

Contentment. 

I dreamed of a lonely and lovely glen ; 
There was a clear and beautiful sky, 
Such as is seeain the blue July ; 
To the north, was a forest of darkling pine*, 
To the south, were hills all green with the vine, 
Where the ruby clusters sparkled like gems 
Seen upon princely diadems ; 
On the rocks, were goats as white as snow, 
And the sheep-bell was heard in the valley below ; 
And, like a nest, in the chestnut's shade, 
As just for love and contentment made, 
A little cottage stood, and the tree 
Shadowed it over most gracefully ; 
A white rose grew up beside the door, 
The porch with the blossoms was covered o'er. 
Methought it was yours — you were standing by ; 
You welcomed me, and I felt your sigh 
Warm on my cheek, and our lips met, — 
On mine the touch is thrilling yet ! 
But, alas ! I awakened, and all I can do, 
Is to tell the sweet dream, my own love, to you ! 

L. E. Landon. 



56 THE BOUQUET. 



— WHITE. 

Jasminum officinale. 
Amiability. 

I send this flower to one made up 

Of loveliness alone ; 
A woman, of her gentler sex 

The seeming paragon : 
To whom the better elements 

And kindly stars have given 
A form so fair, that, like the air, 

'T is less of earth than heaven. 

Affections are as nought to her, 

The measure of her hours ; 
Her feelings have the fragrancy, 

The freshness, of young flowers. — 
O, would that on the earth there moved 

Others of such a frame ; 
That life might be all poetry, 

And weariness a name. 

E. C. PlNCKNET. 



* J ^m 



THE BOUQUET. 57 

HAEEBELL 

Campanula rotundifolia. 

Grief. 

'T is sad to mark the ravage that the heart 
Makes of itself! how, one by one, depart 
The colors that made hope. We seek, we find ; 
And find, too, charm has, with the change, de- 
clined. 
Many things have I loved, that now to me 
Are as a marvel how they loved could be ; 
Yet on we go, desiring, to the last, 
Illusions vain as any in the past. 

L. E. Landon. 

O, could we wake from sorrow ! were it all 
A troubled dream like this, to cast aside, 
Like an untimely garment, with the morn ! 
Could the long fever of the heart be cooled 
By a sweet breath from nature, or the gloom 
Of a bereaved affection pass away 
With looking on the lively tint of flowers — 
How lightly were the spirit reconciled 
To make this beautiful, bright world its home ! 

Willis. 



58 THE BOUQUET 



HELIOTROPE. 

Heliotropium. 

Devotion. 

Gaze on my cheek, 
And let its hue, when thou art near, ray heart's 

devotion speak ; 
Look on ray dim and tearful eye, my pale and 

rigid brow, 
And list my wild, unbidden sigh — what need of 

pledge or vow ? A.non. 

I behold her 
With adoration — feast my eye, while all 
My other senses starve ; and oft frequenting 
The place which she makes happy with her 

presence, 
I ne'er yet had power, with tongue or pen, 
To move her to compassion, or make known 
What 't is I languish for ; yet I must gaze still, 
Though it increase my flame. 

Massinger's ' Bashful Lover.' 

She was a form of life and light, 
That seen, became a part of light ; 
And rose, where'er I turned mine eye, 
The morning star of memory ! Byron. 



THE BOUQUET. 59 

HEATfl. 

Erica. 

Solitude is sometimes best society. 

Oh ! pleasant is it for the heart 
To gather up itself apart ; 
To think its own thoughts, and to be 
Free — as none ever yet were free, 
When, prisoners to their gilded thrall, 
Vain crowd meets crowd in lighted hall ; 
With frozen feeling's tutored eye, 
And smile which is itself a lie. 

L. E. Landon. 

This cell has taught me many a hidden thing ; 
I have become acquainted with my soul 
Through midnight silence, and through lonely 

days 
Silent as midnight. I have found therein 
A well of waters, undisturbed and deep, 
Of sustenance, refreshment, and repose. 

Wordsworth. 

And impulses of deeper thought 
Have come to me in solitude. 

Wordsworth. 



60 THE BOUQUET 



HOLLY. 

Ilex. 

Domestic Happiness. 

Oh ! could I one dear being find, 
And were her fate to mine but joined 

By Hymen's 6ilken tie, 
To her myself, my all I 'd give, 
For her alone delighted live, 

For her consent to die. 

Together should our prayers ascend, 
Together humbly would we bend, 

To praise the Almighty's name ; 
And when I saw her kindling eye 
Beam upward to her native sky, 

My soul should catch the flame. 

Thus, nothing should our hearts divide, 
But on our years serenely glide, 

And all to love be given ; 
Aid, when life's liule scene was o'er, 
We 'd part to meet and part no more, 

But live and love in heaven. 

Feisbii. 



THE BOUQUET. 61 



IfT. 

Hedera. 
Wedded Love. 

Have you e'er seen the ivy clinging 
Round fragments broken and decayed, 

As if its mantling wreaths 't were flinging, 
To hide the breaches time has made ? 

O, thus, should care or sorrow wound thee, 
Be friendship's soft endearments thine ; 

And fondest sympathy around thee 
As close her thousand tendrils twine. 

And when, at last, each youthful token 

Shall yield to wasting and decay. 
And thou, like arch or column broken, 

Shalt feel proud manhood's strength give way ; 

O, then may love, by time unshaken, 

Around its earliest prop still cling! 
(For when was mouldering arch forsaken 

By the fond wreath, it caused to spring?) 

Still may one smile, as moonbeam tender, 

E'en to the last, unwearied shine ; 
Gilding thy manhood's waning splendor — 

And, O, may that one smile be mine! 

Poetry for the Young. 



■ 



THE BOUQUET 



IRIS. 

Iris cristata. 
I have a message for you. 

Fond Love, who lives in my heart for thee, 
Had a message, this morning, he wanted to 
send; 

While Fear, who will ever beside him be, 
Cried, ' Better beware, my friend? ' 

But then sweet memory woke awhile, 
And softly she told, in Love's true ear, 

Of a certain bewitching and eloquent smile, 
Which you have forgotten, I fear ! 

Young Hope, who was listening, caught the 
sound ; 

All beaming with light, she flew to Love — 
' O, round my wings be your billet-doux bound, 

And I '11 be your carrier dove ! ' 

'T was done — Hope went — (she knows the way 
By heart, for she 's travelled it oA ere now.) 

Ah! send her back to me, sweet, I pray, 
With the same unclouded brow. 



She will furl at your feet her weary wing, 
And, O, if the billet she bears be fled, 



THE BOUQUET, 



63 



Think that Fear must have followed and loosened 
the string, 
And just guess all that Love would have said. 

Mrs. Osgood. 



JACOB'S LADDER. 



SlMLAX PEDCNCULARIS. 



Come down to me. 



Look ! how the stars like jewels glisten, 
Maiden, more pure than gem or star? 

Lean from thy lattice, my love, and listen, 
While I awake my wild guitar. 

See, I have flung a fair flower to thee ! 

'Slay not its name my fond hope tell? 
O, for thy lover let it woo thee ! 

And ask thy blush what it means, ' ma belle ! * 

Last night, the patriarch's dream was mine — 
An angel came from heaven to me ; 

Its smiles, its tresses, were so like thine, 
I think it could have been none but thee ! 

Then realize, love, that radiant dream! 

Fly from thy tyrant's savage pride ! 
Descend, O seraph ! by niiri.t's dim beam, 

And morn shall hail, with a smile, my bride ! 

Mrs. Osgood 



64 THE BOUQUET 



LABURNUM. 

Cttisus LABURNUM. 
Pensive Beauty. 

Hers are not brightly-flashing eyes, but seem a 
quiet well, 

Where holy Truth, and Grace serene, those lov- 
ing sisters, dwell ; 

And, from their depths, a constant light, a gentle 
radiance gleams — 

In her pure spirit may be found the fountain of its 

beams. 

[worth, 

And O, within this casket fair, there is a pearl of 

Like the dewdrop in the lily-bell, as free from 
taint of earth ; 

There is a soul, whose rays shine through, and 
gild her features fair, 

With a portion of that bless6d light celestial be- 
ings wear. 

[cately wrought, 

A mind she hath of wondrous mould, most deli- 

Whose strings were never swept by aught but 
high and holy thought ; 

A mind, whose pleasant fancies pass like ' shad- 
ows over streams,' 

A soul, forever tenanted by rainbow-colored 
dreams. A. K. Clark. 



THE BOUQUET. Go 



LAl'Rl'STLtt'S. 

VlBURNCM OTTO. 

I die if neglected. 

While you cherish me, dearest, through good 
and through ill, 

Life's summer 1 11 bless, and its winter defy ! 
'Mid sunshine and tempest I '11 smile on thee still, 

But, O, if you ever neglect me, I die ! 

While you watch o'er love's glowing but delicate 
flowers, 
Every glance of affection — each soul-winged 
sigh — 
All the bloom of my cheek and my heart — shall 
be yours ; 
But, O, if you leave me — you leave me to die ! 

Mrs. Osgood. 

Love is a thing of frail and delicate growth, 
Soon checked, soon fostered ; feeble and yet strong. 
It will endure much, suffer much, and bear 
What would weigh down an angel's wing to earth, 
And yet mount heavenward ; but not the less 
It dieth of a word, a look, a thought : 
And when it dies, it dies without a sign 
To tell how fair it was in happier hours. 

L. E. Landox. 



66 THE BOUQUET. 

LARKSPUR. 

Delphimum C0X50LIDUM. 
Fickleness. 

O, agoxy ! keen agony, 

For trusting heart to find 
That vows believed were vows conceived 

As light as summer wind. 

3 agony! fierce agony, 

For loving heart to brook, 
In one brief hour, the withering power 

Of unimpassioned look. 

O. agony! deep agony, 

heart that '« proud and high, 
To learn of Fate how desolate 
It may be ere it die. 

O, agony ! sharp agony, 

To find how loath to part 
With the fickleness and faithlessness 

That break a trusting heart ! 

W. Motherwell. 



THE BOUQUET. 



LAVENDER. 

IiAVEN'DULA 5PICA. 

Acknowledgment. 

If to feel the deep devotion 

Of" a pilgrim at a shrine ; 
If to weep with fond emotion, 

Be to love thee — I am thine. 
If to treasure every token, 

Every look, and every sign, 
Every light word thou hast spoken, 

Be to love thee — I am thine. 

Mrs. V. E. Howard. 

Yes ! by those eyes of azure glory, 
Shedding their star-like smiles on me ; 

Yes ! by that cheek, changing and glowing, 
Warm as the plumage of yon bright lory ; 

By those ringlets so richly flowing, 
Dearest, I love but thee ! 



Yes ! by that foot of fairy neetness, 

Springing ever so light and free, 
By that figure's gazelle-like grace, love, 

By thy spirit's pure truth and sweetness, 
By all thy magic of mind and face, love, 

Ever I love but thee ! a. Osgood. 



OS THE BOUQUET. 

LOVE-LIES-BLEEDING. 

Amaranthus hypochondricus. 
Hopeless, not heartless. 

I do not ask to offer thee 

A timid love like mine ; 
I lay it as the rose is laid 

On some immortal shrine. 

I have no hope in loving thee ; 

I only ask to love ; 
I brood upon my silent heart, 

As on its nest the dove. 

But little have I been beloved, 

Sad, silent, and alone ; 
And yet I feel, in loving thee, 

The wide world is mine own. 

Thine is the name I breathe to Heaven, 

Thy face is on my sleep ; 
I only ask, that love like this 

May pray for thee and weep. 

L. E. Landon. 



THE BOUQUET 



LONDON PRIDE. 

SlLENE. 

Frivolity. 

A pretty rainbow sort of life enough, 
Filled up with vanities and gay caprice ; 
Such life is like the garden at Versailles, 
Where all is artificial ; and the stream 
Is held in marble basins, or sent up 
Amid the fretted air ia waterfalls 
Fantastic, sparkling ; and the element, 
The mighty element, a moment's toy ; 
And, like all toys, ephemeral. 

L. E. Laxdon. 



Well, well ! adieu forever, 
My heart has broken free ; 

I 've brought myself to sever 
My pleasant tie to thee. 



I blame myself for letting thee 

My better angel seem, 
And forgive thee by forgetting thee, 

As some uneasy dream. 

N. Y. State. 



70 



THE BOUQUET. 



LILT — WHITE. 

LlLIUM CANDIDUM. 

Purity and Sweetness. 

I look upon a face as fair 

As ever made a lip of heaven 
Falter amid its music-prayer! 

The first-lit star of summer even 
Springs not so softly on the eye, 

Nor grows, with watching, half so bright, 
Nor, mid its sisters of the sky, 

So seems of heaven the dearest light — 
Men murmur, where that face is seen, 
My youth's angelic dream was of that look and 
mien. 



Yet though we deem the stars are blest, 

And envy, in our grief, the flower 
That bears but sweetness' in its breast, 

And fear the enchanter for his power, 
And love the minstrel for the spell 

He winds out of his lyre so well — 
The stars are almoners of light, 

The lyrist of melodious air, 
The fountain of its waters bright, 

And every thing most sweet and fair 



THE BOUQUET. 



Of that by which it charms the ear, 
The eye, of him that passes near — 
A lamp is lit in woman's eye, 
That souls, else lost on earth, remember angels 
by. Willis. 



LILY OF THE VALLEY. 

CONVALLARIA MAJALIS. 

Delicate Simplicity. 

Fair girl ! by whose simplicity 

My spirit has been won 
From the stern eanhliness of life, 

As shadows flee the sun ; 
I turn again to think of thee, 

And half deplore the thought, 
That for one instant, o'er my soul, 

Forgetfulness hath wrought ! 
I turn to that charmed hour of hope, 

When first upon my view 
Came the pure sunshine of thine heart, 

Borne from thine eyes of blue. 
'T was thy high purity of soul, 

Thy thought-revealing eye, 
That placed me spell-bound at thy feet, 

Sweet wanderer from the sky. 

Willis G. Clark. 



THE BOUQUET. 



LOCUST. 

ROBINIA PSEUDO-ACACIA 

Affection beyond the grave. 

Stroxg as the death it masters, is the hope 

That onward looks to immortality: 

Let the frame perish, so the soul survive, 

Pure, spiritual, and loving. I believe 

The grave exalts, not separates, the tie 

That holds us in affection to our kind. 

I will look down from yonder pitying sky, 

Watching and waiting those I loved on earth, 

Anxious, in heaven, until they too are there. 

I will attend your guardian angel's side, 

And weep away your faults with holy tears ; 

Your midnight shall be filled with solemn thought, 

And when, at length, death brings you to my love, 

Mine the first welcome heard in paradise 

L. E. Landox. 

Time tempers love, but not removes, 
More hallowed when its hope is fled; 

O, what are thousand living loves, 
To that which cannot quit the dead. 

Byron. 



THE BOUQUET. 



73 



L0YE-DI-A-1IST. 

NlGELLA DaMASCENA. 

Yon puzzle me. 

You say that you love me ; 

Yet say it with tears ; 
Alternately waking 

My hopes and my fears ! 

You smile on my passion, 

You pout as you smile ; 
And you turn from my touch, 

While my heart you beguile. 

You bid me begone ! 

And you frown if I go. 
Your blushes say, • Yes ! ' 

While your tongue murmurs, ' No ! ' 

You kiss me, and vow 

That you hate to be kissed ! 

Ah ! truly I 'm nothing 

But ' love in a mist.' 

Mrs. Osgood. 




74 THE BOUQUET. 

LUPINE. 

LUPIXUS HIRSUTU3. 

Dejection, Sorrow. 

False look, false hope, and falsest love, 

All meteors sent to me, 
To show how they the heart could move, 

And how deceiving be ' 
They left me darkened, crushed, alone ; 
My spirit's household gods o'erthrown. 

The world itself is changed, and all 

That was beloved before 
Is vanished, and beyond recall, 

For I can hope no more : 
The scar of fire, the dint of steel, 
Are easier than such wounds to heal. 

L. E. Laxdon. 

It is the past that maketh my despair! 
The dark, the sad, the irrevocable past. 
Alas! why should our lot in life be made, 
Before we know that life ? Experience comes, 
But comes too late. If I could now recall 
All that I now regret, how different 
Would be my choice ! at best a choice of ill ; 
But better than my miserable past. 
Loathed, yet despised, why must I think of it? 

L. E. Landon. 



THE BOUQUET 



MARIGOLD— FRENCH. 

Dayetes potula. 
Jealousy. 

Nay, chide me not that I am jealous, love ! 

For, in my doting fondness, I am grown 

A very miser of the beauties thrown 
Profusely round thee from the gods above. 
I 'm even jealous of the pliant glove 

Embracing oft thy slight and fairy hand ; 

And of sly Zephyr, with his whisper bland, 
Who steals a- wooing from the budding grove, 

And dallies o'er thy cheek with soft caress ; 
And of the ray that trembles as it glows 

Upon thy fresh lips' rosy loveliness ; — 
For that dear hand I would with mine enclose, 

And lip and cheek I would were mine alone, 

And mine the only heart that thou wouldst wish 

to own. Anon. 




70 



THE B OUQUET 



MEADOW SAFFRON. 

COLCHICUM OFFICINALIS. 

I do not fear to grow old. 

Lament who will, in fruitless tears, 
The speed with which our moments fly ; 

I sigh not over vanished years, 
But watch the years that hasten by. 

Why grieve that time has brought so soon 

The sober age of manhood on? 
As idly should I weep at noon 

To see the blush of morning gone. 

True, time will sear and blanch my brow ; 

Well — I shall sit with aged men, 
And my good glass will tell me how 

A grisly beard becomes me then. 

And should no foul dishonor lie 
Upon my head when I am gray, 

Love yet may search my fading eye, 
And smooth the path of my decay. 

Bryant. 




THE BOUQUET. 77 

mum i iii 

Reseda odorata. 
Your qualities surpass your loveliness. 

The world denies that thou art fair ; 

So, dearest, let it be, 
If nought in loveliness compare 

With what thou art to me. 
True beauty dwells in deep retreats, 

Whose veil is but removed, 
When heart with heart in concord beats, 

When loving and beloved. 

Wordsworth. 

Beauty consists not in the sparkling eye, 
The damask cheek and lip, or forehead high ; 
Not in the graceful form, or glistening hair, 
Or melody of voice. O, no ! not there. 
But in the soul, which every glance displays 
Basking forever in affection's rays, — 
Speaking in love's soft tones, with sunlight smile, 
Which can an aching heart from wo beguile ! 
It dwelleth there in majesty supreme, 
Sweeter than music's voice or seraph's dream. 
Miss H. J. Woodman. 



THE BOUQUET 



MSLETOE. 

VlSCUM VERTICILLATUM. 

I surmount all difficulties 

She loves, but 't is not me she loves ; 

Not me on whom she ponders, 
"When, in some dream of tenderness, 

Her truant fancy wanders. 
The forms that flit her visions through, 

Are like the shapes of old, 
Where tales of prince and paladin 

On tapestry are told. 
Man may not hope her heart to win, 

Be his of common mould. 



But I — though spurs are won no more, 

Where herald's trump is pealing, 
Nor thrones carved out for lady fair, 

Where steel-clad ranks are wheeling — 
I loose the falcon of my hopes 

Upon as proud a flight 
As those who hawked at high renown, 

In song-ennobled fight. 
If timing, then, true love may crown, 

My love she must requite. 

C. F. Hoffman. 



THE BOUQUET. 



79 



mhosa. 

Mimosa sensitiva. 

Sensitiveness. 

Like the mimosa, shrinking from 

The blight of some familiar finger — 
Like flowers which but in secret bloom, 

Where aye the sheltered shadows linger, 
And which, beneath the hot noon-ray, 
Would fold their leaves and fade away — 
The flowers of love, in secret cherished, 
In loneliness and silence nourished, 

Shrink backward from the searching eye, 
Until the stem whereon they flourished, 
Their shrine, the human heart, has perished, 
Although themselves may never die. 
****** 
Life's sunniest hours are not without 
The shadow of some lingering doubt — 
Amid its brightest joys, will stetil 
Spectres of evil yet to feel — 

Its warmest love is blent with fears ; 
Its confidence, a trembling one ; 

Its smile, the harbinger of tears ; 
Its hope, the change of April's sun ! 
A weary lot — in mercy given 
To fit the chastened soul for heaven. 

J. G. Whittier. 



m 



THE B 0TTQTJET. 



MYRTLE. 

MyRTTJS communis. 

Love in absence. 

Myrtle green, 
That maidens think a charm for constant love, 
And give night kisses to it, and so dream. 

Croly. 

I miss thee each lone hour, 

Star of my heart ! 
No other voice hath power 

Joy to- impart. 
I listen for thy hasty step, 

Thy kind, sweet tone ; 
But sorrowing silence whispers me, 

Thou art alone ! 

Darkness is on the hearth — 

Nought do I say ; 
Books are but little worth — 

Thou art away ! 



Strange are to me ; 
I have lost heart and mind, 
Thinking of thee. 



Mrs. Scott. 



THE BOUQUET 



51 



MOSS. 

Muscus. 

Maternal Love. 

Number thy lamps of love, and tell me now 

How many canst thou relight at the stars, 

And blush not at their burning? One — only 

one — 
Lit while your pulses by one heart kept time, 
And fed with faithful fondness to your grave — 
(Though sometimes with a hand stretched back 

from heaven — ) 
Steadfast through all tilings — near when most 

forgot — 
And, with its finger of unerring truth, 
Pointing the lost way in thy darkest hour — 
One lamp — thy mother's love — amid the stars 
Shall lift its pure flame changeless, and before 
The throne of God burn through eternity — 
Holy — as it was lit and lent thee here. 

Willis. 



Eee yet her child has drawn its earliest breath, 
A mother's love begins : it glows i.ll death — 
Lives before life —with death not dies — but seems 
The very substance of immortal dreams. 

Anonymous. 



82 THE BOUQUET. 

NARCISSUS — FAISE. 

Narcissus pseudo-narcissus. 
Delusive Hope. 



That I have passed with thee, 
When thou hadst not a single thought 
Of how thou werl with me. 

I heard thy voice, I spoke again, 

I gazed upon thy face ; 
And never scene of actual life 

Could bear a deeper trace. 

Then all that fancy conjured up, 

And made thee look and say, 
Till I have loathed reality, 

That chased such dreams away. 

Alas ! this is vain, fond, and false ; 

Thy heart is not for me ; 
And, knowing this, how can I waste 

My very soul on thee ? 

L. E. Landon. 



THE E O UQUET 



NARCISSUS — POET'S. 

Narcissus poeticus. 

Self-love, Egotism. 

The pale narcissus 
Still feeds upon itself; but, newly blown, 
The nymphs will pluck it from its slender stalk, 
And say, ' Go, fool, and to thy image talk.' 

Lord Thurlow. 



But self-love never yet could look on truth, 

But with bleared beams ; sick flattery and she 

Are twin-born sisters, and do mix their eyes, 

As. if you sever one, the other dies. 

Why did the gods give thee a heavenly form 

And earthly thoughts to make thee proud of it? 

Why, do I ask ? 'T is now the known disease 

That beauty hath, to bear too deep a sense 

Of her own self-conceived excellence. 

O, hadst thou known the worth of Heaven's rich 

grift, 

Thou wouldst have turned it to a truer use ; 
And not (with starved and covetous ignorance) 
Pined in continual eyeing that bright gem, 
The glance whereof to others had been more 
Than to thy famished mind the wide world's store. 

Ben Jonson. 



M 



TH E BOUQUET. 



OATS. 



AVENA SATIVA. 



Music. 



Mine is the lay that lightly floats, 

And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, 

That fall as soft as snow on the sea, 

And melt in the heart as instantly ! 

And the passionate strain, that deeply glowing 

Refines the bosom it trembles through ; 

As the musk-wind, over the water flowing, 

Ruffles the wave — but sweetens it too. 

Moore. 

'T is I that mingle in one sweet measure 
The past, the present, the future of pleasure ; 
When memory links the lone that is gone 

With the blissful tone that 's still in the ear ; 
And hope, from a heavenly note, flies on 

To a note more heavenly still that is near. 

Moore. 



Music ! O, how faint, how weak, 

Language fades before thy spell ! 
Why should feeling ever speak, 

When thou canst breathe her soul so well? 

Moore. 



THE BOUQUET. 85 

OLEAXDER. 

Neeium oleander. 

Beware! 

I know a maiden fair to see, 

Take care ! 
She can both false and friendly be, 
Beware ! beware ! 

Trust her not ! 
She is fooling thee ! 

She gives thee a garland woven fair, 

Take care ! 
It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear, 
Beware ! beware ! 

Trust her not ! 
She is fooling thee ! 

Longfellow. 

Love's early dawn delicious charms imparts; 
With gentle breath the traitor comes at first, 
Then tempests rise, and clouds of sorrow burst. 
Wouldst thou be well ? whatever form he bear, 
He wears his arrows still, and so beware! 

Moliere. 
Translated by Crise. 



86 THE BOUQUET. 

ORANGE BLOSSOM. 

Citrus aurantium. 
Your purity equals your loveliness. 

How fair the orange-bloom will smile 

Amid that auburn braid ! 
How soft will bum thy blush the while, 

Beneath the bridal shade ! 
Thou 'rt young to wed ! — that virgin flower, 

White as thine own pure brow, 
Just stolen from its dewy bower, 

Is not more fresh than thou. 
Thou 'rt young to wear the bridal bloom ; 

Yet go ! for in thy heart, 
A lovelier blossom lights the gloom 

That timid fears impart — 
The heaven-fed flower of purity — 

O, nurse the snow-drop still ! 
And in its breath a charm shall be, 

To guard thee from all ill. 

Mrs. Osgood. 




THE BOUQUET, 



PARSLEY. 

Apium petroselinum. 

Feasting, Entertainment. 

There was a feast that night, 
And colored lamps sent forth their odorous light 
Over gold carvings, and the purple fall 
Of tapestry ; and around each stately hall 
Were statues pale, and delicate, and fair, 
As all of beauty, save her blush, were there ; 
And, like light clouds, floating around each room, 
The censers sent their breathings of perfume ; 
And scented waters mingled with the breath 
Of flowers that died as they rejoiced in death. 
The tulip, with its globe of rainbow light ; 
The red rose, as it languished with delight ; 
The bride-like hyacinth, drooping as with shame, 
And the anemone, whose cheek of flame 
Is golden, as it were the flower the sun, 
In his noon hour, most loved to look upon. 
At first, the pillared halls were still and lone, 
As if some fairy palace, all unknown 
To mortal eye or step : — This was not long — 
Wakened the lutes, and rose the sound of song; 
And the wide mirrors glittered with the crowd 
Of changing shapes : the young, the fair, the proud, 
Came thronging in. L. E. Landon. 



S3 



THE BOUQUET. 



PiXST. 



Viola tricolor. 



Tender and pleasant thoughts. 

Most strangely true and beautiful hath grown 
The fancy of that line, ' Pansies for thoughts ; ' 
And thought is changeful ever. So are now 
The fair Ophelia's token-flowers more fit 
To be its emblems ; for their varying hues, 
Like thoughts diversified with bright, and deep, 
And gay, and sombre lints, mirror the mind 
In every changeful mood ; some robe them 
In milk-white garb ; and these are maiden 

thoughts ; 
Then, purpled with love's wound, they 're pen- 
cilled o r er 
With richer beauty ; and fantastic oft, 
And fleeting, too, are these love marks, I ween. 
****** 

O ! are not pansies emblems meet for thoughts? 
The pure, the checkered, gay, and deep, by turns ; 
A hue for ever)' mood the bright things wear, 
In their bright velvet coats. And let his name, 
Who thus entwined them in immortal song, 
Be ever honored when they meet our gaze, 
And bring, as though ? t were writ upon their 
leaves, 



THE BOUQUET 



All that most graceful fairy scene,* where Puck, 
His elvish ears attentive, learns the tale 
Of Oberon's syren song, — and how the shaft 
Of armed Cupid dyed this ' western flower,' 
Which maidens now call ' Love in Idleness.' 

L. A. TWAMLEY. 



PASSION FLOWER. 

Passiflora. 
Religious Fervor. 

If superstition's baneful art 

First gave thy mystic name ; 
Reason, I trust, would steel my heart 

Against its groundless claim. 

But if, in fancy's pensive hour, 

By grateful feelings stirred, 
Her fond, imaginative power 

That name at first conferred — 

Though lightly truth her flights may prize, 

By wild vagary driven, 
For once their blameless exercise 

May surely be forgiven. 



Midsummer Nisrht's Dream.* 



80 



THE BOUQUET 



We roam the seas — give new-found isles 
Some king's or conqueror's name ; 

We rear on earth triumphant piles, 
As meeds of earthly fame ; 

Then may not one poor floweret's bloom 

The holier memory share, 
Of Him, who, to avert our doom, 

Vouchsafed our sins to bear? Barton. 



PEA — EVERLASTING. 



L.ATHYRUS LATIFOLIA. 



Wilt thou go with me? 

O, wilt thou go with me, love, 

And seek the lonely glen ? 
O, wilt thou leave for me, love, 

The smiles of other men? 
The birds are there, aye singing, 

The woods are full of glee, 
And love shall there be flinging 

His roses over thee. 
And wilt thou go with me, dear, 

And share my humble lot? 
And will thou live with me, dear, 

Within a lowly cot? Percival. 



THE BOUQUET 



91 



PEA — SWEET. 

Lathtrus odoratus. 

Departure. 

My love will grow 
Intenser in our absence, and again 
Burn with a tender glow when I return. 
Fear not ; this is my last resolve, and this 
My parting token. Percival. 

But then to part ! to part when Time 

Has wreathed his tireless wing with flowers, 
And spread the richness of a clime 

Of fairy o'er this land of ours. 
When glistening leaves and shaded streams 

In the soft light of Autumn lay, 
And, like the music of our dreams, 

The viewless breezes seemed to stray — 
'T was bitter then to rend the heart 
With the sad thought that we must part ; 
And, like some low and mournful spell, 
To whisper but one word — farewell ! 

P. Benjamin. 



92 



THE BOUQUET 



PERIWINKLE— BLUE. 

VlNCA MINOR. 

Sweet Remembrances. 

Let fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, 
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot de- 
stroy ; 
And which come in the night-time of sorrow and 

care, 
To bring back the features that joy used to wear. 
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled, 
Like the vase in which roses have once been dis- 
tilled; 
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will, 
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. 

Moore. 



And thus, as in Memory's bark we shall glide 

To visit the scenes of our boyhood anew, 
Though oft we may see, looking down on the tide, 

The wreck of full many a hope shining through ; 
Yet still, as in fancy we point to the flowers, 

That once made a garden of all the gay shore, 
Deceived for a moment, we '11 think them still 
ours, 

And breathe the fresh air of life's morning once 
more. Moore. 



THE BOUQUET. 93 

PHLOX. 

Phlox maculata. 
Our souls are united. 

My soul, gone forth from this lone breast, 

Lives only, love, in thine ; 
There is its holy home of rest, 

Its dear, its chosen shrine. Terry. 

There are two hearts, whose movements thrill 

In unison so closely sweet, 
That pulse to pulse, responsive still, 

They both must heave — or cease to beat. 

There are two souls, whose equal flow 

In gentle streams so calmly run, 
That when they part — they part? — ah, no! 

They cannot part — those souls are one. 

Barton. 

There is a mystic thread of life, 
So dearly wreathed with mine alone, 

That Destiny's relentless knife 
At once must sever both or none! 

Byron. 



94 



THE B OUQUET 



PM — MITE. 

DlANTHUS ALBUS. 

Lovely and pure affection. 

1 O, call it by some better name, 

For Friendship is too cold ; 
And Love is now an earthly flame, 

Whose shrine must be of gold ; 
And Passion, like the sun at noon, 

That burns o'er all he sees, 
Awhile as warm, will set as soon — 

O, call it none of these ! 

c Imagine something purer far • 
More free from stain of clay, 
Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are, 
Yet human still as they ; 
And if thy lip, for love like this, 

No mortal word can frame, 
Go ask of angels what it is, 
And call it by that name ! ' 



THE BOUQUET 



95 



PLM — RED. 

DlANTHUS RUBEUS. 

Woman's Love. 

O, woman's love ! at times it may 
Seem cold or clouded, but it bums 

With true, un deviating ray, 
And never from its idol turns. 

Its sunshine is a smile — a frown 

The heavy cloud that weighs it down ; 

A tear its weapon is — beware 

Of woman's tears — there 's danger there ! 

Its sweetest place on which to rest, 

A constant and confiding breast : 

Its life, to meet — its death, to part — 

Its sepulchre, a broken heart. Croly. 

And well the poet, at her shrine, 

May bend and worship while he woos ; 
To him she is a thing divine, 
The inspiration of his line, 

His loved one, and his muse. 
If to his song the echo rings 

Of fame — : t is woman's voice he hears; 
If ever, from his lyre's proud strings, 
Flow sounds like rush of angel-wings — 
'T is that she listens, while he sings, 

With blended smiles and tears. Halleci. 



96 THE BOUQUET. 

POPPY — RED. 

PAPAVEB. EHCEAS. 

Forgetfulness, or Consolation. 

Will you drink of this fountain, and sorrow 

forget ? 
Has the past been so blest that you hesitate yet, 
Can love, when 'tis slighted, still cherish a token, 
Or hearts still forgive,that unkindness has broken ? 

If you will not call woe and reproach on his name, 
Forget him ; for honor, for pride, and for shame ; 
And if passive, resist every feeble endeavor, 
Drink deep of the wave, and forget it forever ! 

Percival 

Come, press my lips, and lie with me 
Beneath the lonely alder-tree, 

And we will dream a pleasant sleep, 
And not a care shall dare intrude 
Upon the marble solitude, 

So peaceful and so deep. 

H. K. White. 

Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care. 

Siiakspeare. 



THE BOUQUET 



97 



POPPY — MITE. 

Papaver sommferum. 
Sleep of the Heart. 

Sleep, heart of mine ! — 
Wherefore art thou beating? 

Do dreams stir thy slumbers, 
Vainest hopes repeating? 

Sleep, heart of mine, 

Sleep thou without dreaming: 
Love, the beguiler, 

Weareth such false seeming. 

Sleep, heart of mine ; 

But if on thy slumbers 
Breathe one faint murmur 

Of his charmed numbers ; 

Waken, heart of mine, 

From such dangerous sleeping; 
Love's haunted visions 

Ever end in weeping. 

L. E. Landon. 



THE BOUQUET 



PRIMROSE. 



Primula acaulis. 

Early Youth. 

Fairer flowers which gardens bear, 
Proud exotics reared with care, 
Beautiful though they may be, 
Never can compare with thee. 

Thou art rich, from memory's store, 
With the wealth of life's young lore ; 
Love by books but poorly taught, 
Wealth by riches never bought. 

Faintly, while I look on thee, 

Seems the past again to be ; 

Sights and sounds which then were dear, 

Greet again my eye and ear. 

Grateful is it yet to feel 
In the heart thy mute appeal ; 
Lingering greenness lurking there, 
Feelings such as these declare. 

Shed, then, on dark manhood's gloom, 
Gleams of sunshine from thy bloom, 
Through whose spell the spirit seems 
Once more young in childhood's dreams. 

Larton. 



THE BOUQUET 



PRDIROSE — EYEMG. 

OENOTHERA ODORATA. 

Inconstancy. 

Go forth again, inconstant one, 

Go forth, amid proud fashion's throng — 
May a fair sky — a pleasant sun 

Be thine, to light thy step along ; 
No malison shall rest on thee, 

Although that vow so soon was broken ; 
Yet thou shalt hear no curse from me, 
. ord unmanly shall be spoken : 
•t my heart, forget my lyre, — 
Forget them with our pleasures gone ; 
Kindled and quenched hath been love's fire, 
Yet I forgive thee — speed thee on. 

J. F. Rogers. 

O, cold inconstancy! 
This is not woman's love ; her love should be 
A feeling pure and holy as the flame 



The spring has but just colored ; innocent 

As the young dove, and changeless as the faith 

The martyr seals in blood. 

L. E. Landon. 



100 THE BOUQUET. 

ROSE— AUSTRIAN. 

Rosa bicolor. 
Thou art all that 's lovely. 

Oh ! ihou who art the fairest of earth's daughters, 
Delighted could I sit a summer's day, 
To drink the music of thy lips away, 

Gushing their careless melody as waters ; 
And, while I gazed upon thy full blue eyes, 

Still listening to thy passion-kindling songs, 
Deem myself happiest of thy votaries. 

Thus, while the morning lark his note prolongs, 
Lists the rapt bard, and, bending to the skies, 

Sends up the incense of a grateful heart, 
For such a gleam of heavenly ecstasies ! 

Oh, beautiful in feature as thou art, 
More beautiful in mind — my thoughts of thee 
Shall live in love's undying memory. 

Dawes. 







4 * 




THE BOUQUET 



101 



ROSE — BRIDAL. 

RUBUS R05AF0LIUS. 

Happy Love. 

Our love hath teen no common love, 

With hopeful smiles and tears ; 
Our faith is faith to meet above, 

Our trust the trust of years. 
Thus have we strangled for the good, 

Thus kept our spirits pure ; 
Believing, in our darkest mood, 

That love must still endure. 

I know not, love, where heaven may be, 

With us 't is now begun ; 
I learn celestial good from thee, 

On earth our souls are one ; 
And being one in this dim way, 

Where faith so oft hath striven, 
When love no more shall weep and pray, 

We must be one in heaven. 

E. HeLFEXSTEIN. 






My soul hath her content so absolute, 
That not another comfort like to this, 
Succeeds in unknown fate. 



Shakspeare. 



102 THE BO U Q LET. 



ROSE — DAMASK. 

Rosa damascexa. 
Bashful Love. 

Before the winning breeze could steal 
Morn's sprinkled pearl-drops from the rose, 

I culled it, that it might reveal 
The tale my lips dare not disclose. 

Its leaves of virgin tenderness, — 
Where I have pressed a kiss for thee, — 

Its blush of maiden bashfulness, 
Both tell of love and secrecy. 

F. S. Hill. 

Tnis speaking rose 
Becomes a token, fit to tell 
Of things that words can ne'er disclose, 
And nought but this reveal so well. 

Then take my flower, and let its leaves 
Beside thy heart be cherished near, 
While that confiding heart receives 
The thought it whispers to thine ear. 

Tokkx. 



THE BOUQUET. 103 



ROSE — MOSS. 

Rosa huscosa. 
Superior Merit. 

I never saw a form before 

Of such unrivalled loveliness, 
Nor one who was of earth, who wore 

The look of heaven upon her face. 
I never knew a heart so kind, 

Such tears for others' misery flow, 
Nor saw a hand so gladly bind 

The crushed and bleeding heart of wo. 

Her spirit was from sin so free, 

Such gladness round her path she shed, 
That all, who knew her purity, 

Poured blessings on her bright young head. 
In this cold world, I never found 

But one to whom my heart was dear ; 
But thousand cords of love had bound 

Her being to this changeful sphere. 

Miss P. Casey. 



# 



104 THE BOUQUET. 

ROSE- CHINA. 

Rosa multiflora. 
Grace. 

O, say nol, wisest of all the kings 

That have risen on Israel's throne to reign, — 
Say not, as one of your wisest things, 

That grace is false, and beauty vain! 

Is beauty vain, because it will fade ? 

Then are earth's green robe and heaven's light 
vain ; 
For this shall be lost in evening's shade, 

And that in winter's sleety rain. 

But earth's green mantle, pranked with flowers, 
Is the couch where life with joy reposes ; 

And heaven gives down, with its light and show- 
ers, 
To regale them, fruits — to deck them, roses. 

And while opening flowers in such beauty spread, 
And ripening fruits so gracefully swing, — 

Say not, O king, as you just now said, 
That beauty or grace is a worthless thing. 

PlERPONT. 



THE BOUQUET 



105 



BOSE — MITE. 

Rosa alba. 
Sadness. 

My heart is with its early dream ; 

It cannot turn away, 
To seek again the joys of earth, 

And mingle with the gay. 
The dew-nursed flower, that lifts its brow 

Beneath the shades of night, 
Must wither, when the sunbeam sheds 

Its too resplendent light. 

My heart is with its early dream ; 

And vainly love's soft power 
Would seek to charm that heart anew, 

In some unguarded hour. 
I would not that some gentle one 

Should hear my frequent sigh ; 
The deer, that bears its death-wound, turns 

In loneliness to die. Mrs. Embury. 






tit 






106 THE BOUQUET. 



ROSE — YELLOW. 

Rosa lutea. 
Infidelity. 

Take back the sigh thy lips of art, 
In passion's moment, breathed to me; 

Yet, no — it mast not, will not, part ; 

J T is now the life-breath of my heart, 
And has become too pure for thee ! 

Take back the kiss that faithless sigh, 

With all the warmth of truth, imprest ; 
Yet, no — the fatal kiss may lie — 
Upon thy lips its sweets would die, 
Or bloom to make a rival blest. 

Take back the vows, that, night and day, 

My heart received, I thought, from thine; 
Yet, no — allow them still to stay, 
They might some other heart betray, 
As sweetly as they 've ruined mine ! 

Moore. 



i 



' 



-#•: :-s- 



THE BOUQUET 



107 



ROSEMARY. 

Rosmarinus officinalis. 

Remembrance. 

There 's rosemary, that 's for remembrance ; 
Pray you, love, remember. Shakspeare. 

'T is a melancholy flower, 
Such as, in affliction's hour, 
O'er the heaving turf I 'd throw, 
To deck the friend that rests below. 

Percival. 

There are moments in life that are never forgot, 
Which brighten, and brighten, as time steals 
away ; 
They give a new charm to the happiest lot, 

And they shine on the gloom of the loneliest day. 
These moments are hallowed by smiles and by 
tears, 
The first look of love, and the last parting given. 

Percival. 

Oh ! only those 
Whose souls have felt this one idolatry, 
Can tell how precious is the slightest thing 
Affection gives and hallows ! A dead flower 
Will long be kept, remembrancer of looks 
That made each leaf a treasure. L. E. L. 



10S THE BOUQUET. 

SAGE. 

Salvia officinalis. 
Domestic Virtues. 

Howe'er the skeptic scoffs, the poet sighs, 
Hope oft reveals her dimly-shadowed dreams ; 

And seraph Joy descends from pale-blue skies, 
And, like sweet sunset on wood-skirted streams, 

Peace breathes around her stilling harmonies, 
Her whispered music — while her soft eye 
beams ; 

And the deep bliss that crowns the household 
hearth, 

From all its woes redeems the bleeding earth. 

Hail, ye fair charities ! the mellow showers 
Of the heart's spring-time ! from your rosy 
breath, 

The wayworn pilgrim, though the tempest lowers, 
Breathes a new being in the realms of Death, 

And bears the burden of life's darker hours, 
With cheerless aspect o'er the lonely heath, 

That spreads between us and the unfading clime 

Where true Love triumphs o'er the death of 
Time. S. L. Fairfield. 



THE BOUQUET. 109 



SXOWDROP. 

Galanthus nivalis. 
Consolation. 

The rose is for the nightingale, 

The heather for the lark ; 
But the holly greets the red-breast, 

'Mid winter drear and dark ; 
And the snowdrop, wakened by his song, 

Peeps tremblingly forth, 
From her bed of cold, still slumber, 

To gaze upon the earth. Twamley. 

Though cold fate has lowered, 

And darkened my day ; 
Though sorrow has showered 

Her tears o ? er my way ; 
One blossom has flowered, 

In Love's sunny ray. 

Let Fate then bereave me, 

Let other friends flee, 
If my snowdrop she leave me, 

Pure, smiling, and free, 
No more can she grieve me — 

My hope is in thee. Mrs. Osgood. 



110 THE BOUQUET. 



SPEEDWELL. 

Veronica. 

Fidelity. 

Not for thy azure tint, though bright, 
Or form so elegantly light, 
I single thee, thou lovely flower, 
From others of the sylvan bower ; 
Thou hast a spell to them unknown, 
And this my heart hath captive won. 

Thy name — what is it? The very prayer 

Affection breathes for friends most dear; 

Whate'er their hopes, pursuits, or aim, 

Part they or meet, thy magic name 

With silent eloquence may tell 

Her soul's fond breathings, • Speed ye well.' 

Then to thy task, thou favored flower ; 
And if thy simple charms have power 
To win the glance of her I love, 
O, faithful to thy errand prove ; 
Say, far or near, where'er she dwell, 
Thy prayer shall ever be, ' Speed well.' 

Poetry for the Young. 



THE BOUQUET. Ill 

STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 

Ornithogalum umbellatum. 
The light of our path. 

Light of those whose dreamy dwelling 

Borders on the shade of death, 
Come, and by thy love's revealing, 

Dissipate the clouds beneath ! 

Sacred Melodies. 

Come, while sweet thoughts, like summer-buds, 
unfolding, 
Waken rich feelings in the careless breast — 
While yet thy hand th' ephemeral wreath is hold- 
ing- 
Come, and secure interminable rest! 

Come, while the morning of thy life is glowing, 
Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die — 

Ere the gay spell, which earth is round thee 
throwing, 
Fades, like the crimson from a sunset sky. 

Life is but a shadow — save a promise given, 
Which lights up sorrow with a. fadeless ray ; 

I touch the sceptre ! — with a hope in heaven, 
Come, turn thy spirit from the world away. 

Columbian Star. 



112 THE BOUQUET. 



ST. JOM'S WORT. 

Hypericum. 
Animosity. 

Let my curse be upon lum, 

The faithless of heart ! 
Let the smiles that have won him 

In frowning depart ! 
Let his best cherished blossom 

Of sympathy die, 
And the hopes of his bosom 

In shadows go by ! 
Ay, curse him ! but keep 

The poor boon of his breath, 
Till he sigh for the sleep 

And the quiet of death! 
Let a viewless one haunt him 

With whisper and jeer, 
And an evil one daunt him 

With phantoms of fear! 
Be the fiend unforgiving, 

That follows his tread ; 
Let him walk with the living, 

Yet gaze on the dead ! 

J. G. Whittier. 



THE BOUQUET. 



113 



SUNFLOWER — DWARF. 

Helianthus indicus. 

Your devout adorer. 

The sunflower turns to her god, when he sets, 
The same look which she turned when he rose. 

Moore. 



As turns 
The flower to meet the sun, 
E'en though, when clouds and storms arise, 
It be not shone upon, — 
Thus, dear one, in thine eyes I see 
The only light that beams for Me. 

As thinks 
The mariner of home, 

When doomed through many a dreary waste 
Of waters yet to roam, — 
Thus doth my spirit turn to thee, 
My guiding star o'er life's wild sea. 

As bends 
The Persian at the shrine 
Of his resplendent god, to watch 
His earliest glories shine, — 
Thus doth my spirit bow to thee, 
My heart's own radiant deity. 

Mrs. Embury. 



114 THE BOUQCXT. 

SWEETBRM or EGLANTINE. 

Rosa suaveolens. 

Poetry. 

The air is full of poetry, — the air 

Is living with its spirit ; and the waves 

Dance to the music of its melodies, 

And sparkle in its brightness. Percival. 

' With fairer tints I can adorn 
The living landscape, fairer than the morn. 
The summer clouds in shapes romantic rolled, 
And those that edge the fading west, like gold ; 
The lake that sleeps in sunlight, yet impressed 
With shapes more sweet than real on its breast; 
'Mid baffling stones, beneath a partial ray, 
The small brook huddling its uneven way ; 
The bluey fading hills, the silvery sea, 
And every scene of summer, speaks of me : 
But most I wake the sweetest wishes warm, 
Where the fond gaze is turned on woman's 
breathing form.' 




THE BOUQUET 



115 



TULIP — RED. 

TULIPA GESN'ERIAXA. 

A declaration of love. 

{ Tulip — whose leaves, with their ruby glow, 
Hide the heart that lies burning and black below.' 

Tell her I love her — love her for those eyes, 

Now soft with feeling, radiant now with mirth, 
Which, like a lake reflecting autumn skies, 

Reveal two heavens here to us on earth — 
The one in which their soulful beauty lies, 

And that wherein such soulfulness has birth; 
Go to my lady ere the season flies, 

And the rude winter comes thy bloom to blast ; 
Go, an3 with all of eloquence thou hast, 

The burning story of my love discover ; 

And if the theme should fail, alas ! to move her, 
Tell her, when youth's gay summer flowers are 

past, 
My undying love will blossom to the last ! 

C. F. Hoffman. 



116 THE BOUQUET. 

VERBENA or VERVAIN. 

Verbena fastata. 

Sensibility. 

Verbena, in thy pensive grace, 

The emblem of the feeling heart I trace. 

Anonymous. 

Your heart is a music-box, dearest, 

With exquisite tunes at command, 
Of melody sweetest and clearest, 

If tried by a delicate hand ; 
But its workmanship, love, is so fine, 

At a single rude touch it would break. 
Then, O, be the magic key mine, 

Its fairy -like whispers to wake ! 

Mus. Osgood. 

Gentle as angel's ministry, 

The guiding hand of love should be, 

Which seeks again those cords to bind, 

Which human wo hath rent apart — 
To heal again the wounded mind, 

And bind anew the broken heart. 

J. G. Whittier. 



THE BOUQUET 



117 



VIOLET. 



Viola. 



Modesty. 

A gentle creature was that girl, 

Meek, humble, and subdued ; 
Like some lone flower, that has grown up 

In woodland solitude. 

Its soil has had but little care, 

Its growth but little praise ; 
And down it droops the timid head 

It has not strength to raise. 

For other brighter blooms are round, 

And they attract the eye ; 
They seem the sunny favorites 

Of summer, earth, and sky. 

The human and the woodland flower 

Hath yet a dearer part — 
The perfume of the hidden depths, 

The sweetness at the heart. 

L. E. Landon. 

And thou, who didst appear so fair, 

To young imagination, 
Didst rival, in the sight of day, 

Her delicate creation. 

Wordsworth. 



118 THE BOUQUET. 

WALLFLOWER. 

Cheiranthus CHEIRI. 
Fidelity in Misfortune. 

Not in prosperity's bright morn, 

Cheiranthus' golden light 
Is lent, her splendors to adorn, 

And make them still more bright; 
But in adversity's dark hour, 

When glory is gone by ; 
It then exerts its gentle power, 

The scene to beautify. 

Bernard Barton. 

Oh! trust the mind, 
To grief so long, so silently resigned. 
Let the light spirit, ne'er by sorrow taught, 
The pure and lofty constancy of thought, 
Its fleeting trials eager to forget, 
Rise with elastic power o'er each regret ; 
Fostered In tears our young affection grew, 
And I have learned to suffer and be true. 
Deem not my love a frail, ephemeral flowei, 
Nursed by soft sunshine and the balmy shower; 
No ! 't is the child of tempests, and defies, 
And meets, unchanged, the anger of the skies. 

Wilson. 



THE BOUQUET 



119 



WATER LILY, 

Nymphje. 
Eloquence . 

It welleth up from brimming founts 

Deep hidden in the soul — 
And with a strong, resistless power 

Its chainless waters roll ! 
It gushes out in words of fire — 

It scorches with its breath — 
And, as the heart is pure or dark, 

Its words are life or death ! 



In Justice' great and outraged name, 

That giant voice doth crave 
Redress for earth's down-trodden ones, 

And freedom for the slave ! 
And it has softer, gentler tones, 

To soothe the broken heart — 
To bind its tender, bleeding wounds, 

And hope and peace impart 

Miss C. A. Fillebrown. 



120 THE BOUQUET. 

WEEPING WILLOW. 

Salix Babyloxica. 

Forsaken. 

Love is oft a fatal spell, 

That sweetly soothes but to betray, — 
Let not the soft enchantment will 

Your heart away. 
A garland of the cypress tree, 
Or weeping willow wreath, may well 

Its emblem be. J. Malcolm. 

Sad doom — at sorrow's shrine to kneel, 
Forever covetous to feel, 

And impotent to bear ; 
Such once was his — to think and think 
On blighted love, and only sink 

From anguish to despair : 
But nature, with benignant part, 
Hath, in the silence of his heart, 

To faith a cradle given ; 
Calm as the dewdrop, free to rest 
Within the rose's tranquil breast, 

Till it exhales to heaven. 

"Wordsworth. 



THE BOUQtJET. 121 

VOODBDSE. 

LOXICERA PERICLYMENON. 

Fraternal Love. 

I thixk of thee, my sister, 

In ray sad and lonely hours, 
And the thought of thee comes o'er me 

Like the breath of morning- flowers. 

Like music that enchants the ear, 

Like sights that bless the eye, 
Like the verdure of the meadow, 

The azure of the sky ; 

Like rainbow in the evening, 

Like blossoms on the tree, 
Is the thought of thee, dear sister, 

Is the tender thought of thee ! 

John Kenyon. 



122 THE BOUQUET. 

YARROAV. 

Achillea millefolium. 

Thou alone canst cure. 

If there is on earth a cure 
For the sunk heart — His this — day after day 
To be the blest companion of thy way ; 
To hear thy angel eloquence — to see 
Those virtuous eyes forever turned on me ; 
And in their light rechastened silently, 
Like the stained web that whitens in the sun, 
Grow pure, by being purely shone upon. 

Mo ORE. 

Fail me not thou. This feeling past, 

My heart would never rouse again. 
Thou art the brightest — but the last ; 

And if this trust, this love is vain — 
If thou, all peerless as thou art, 
Be not less fair than true of heart — 
My loves are o'er. The sun will shine 
Upon no grave so hushed as this dark breast of 
mine. Willis. 



THE BOUQUET. 123 



TEW. 

Taxus. 

Penitence. 

The warmest sigh that pleasure heaves, 

Is cold, is faint, to those that swell 
The heart where pure repentance grieves 

O'er hours of pleasure loved too well ! 
Leave me to sigh o'er hours that flew 

More idly than the summer's wind, 
And while they passed a fragrance threw 

But left no trace of sweets behind. 

Moore. 

We will not ask what thorn has found 
Keen entrance to thy bosom fair ; 

If love hath dealt a deathless wound, 
Or deeper folly woke despair. 

We only say, the sinless clime 

On which is bent thy streaming eye, 

Hath pardon for the darkest crime, 
Though erring man the boon deny. 

We only say, the prayerful breast, 
The crystal tear of contrite pain, 

Hath power to ope the portal blest, 
Where pride and pomp have toiled in vain. 
Token, for 1 999. 



124 THE BOUQUET 



MM. 

Zinnia multiflora. 
Absence. 

The zinnia's solitary flower, 

Which blooms in forests lone and deep, 
Are like the visions, fair and bright, 

That faithful, absent hearts will keep. 

Anonymous. 

In some lonely, silent hour, 
When thou shalt yield to memory's power, 
Let her fondly lead thee o'er 
The scenes that thou hast passed before, 
To absent friends and days gone by ; 
Then should these flowers meet thine eye, 
A true memento may they be, 
Of one whose bosom owes to thee 
So many hours enjoyed in gladness, 
That else, perhaps, had passed in sadness, 
And many a golden dream of joy, 
Untarnished and without alloy; — 
O, still my fervent prayer will be, 
4 Heaven's choicest blessings rest on thee.' 

H. F. Gould. 



INDEX OF FLOWERS. 



Flowers. 

Aspen Tree, . . 
Aloe, .... 
Acacia, Yellow, . 
Almond, . . . 
Althea, .... 
Anemone, . . 
Amaranth, Globe, 
Auricula, Scarlet, 
Bachelor's Button, 

Balm, .... 
Balsamine, . . 
Bay Leaf, . . . 

Box, 

Buttercup, . . . 
Calla ^Ethiopica, 
Catchfly, . . . 
Cedar, .... 
Chamomile, . . 
Clematis, . . . 
Candytuft, . . . 
Carnation, . . 
China Aster, . . 
Chrysanthemum, 
Camellia, White, 
Columbine, . . 



Sentiments. Pag*. 

Excessive Sensibility, .... 5 
Religious Superstition, ... 6 

Concealed Love, 8 

Hope, 7 

Consulned by love, 9 

Anticipation, 10 

Unchangeable, 12 

Wealth is not happiness, . . . 11 
I with the morning's love have 

oft made sport, 13 

Sympathy, 14 

Impatience, 15 

I change but in dying, ... 17 

Stoicism, 18 

Wealth, 19 

Feminine Modesty, 21 

Artifice, or Pretended Love, . 20 

I think of thee, 23 

Energy in Adversity, .... 22 

Mental Beauty, 24 

Indifference, ....... 25 

Pride and Beauty, 26 

Variety is charming, .... 28 

I love, 31 

Perfect Loveliness, 33 

I cannot give thee up, .... 32 



V2Q 



THE BOUQUET 



Flowers. 

Coreopsis, . 
Corckorus, . 
Crocus, . . 
Dahlia, . . 
Daisy, . . 
Dandelion, . 
Dew-plant, 
Eglantine, . 
Everlasting, 
Fennel, . . . . 
Forget-me-not, . 
Flowering Reed, 
Fuchsia, . . . . 
Geranium, Oak, 

Rose, . . . 

Scarlet, . . 

Silver-leaved, 

Lemon, . . 
Gilly Flower, . 
Grape, . . . . 
Harebell, . . . 
Heliotrope, . . . 
Heath, .... 



Holly, . . . 
Hollyhock, . 
Honey Flower, 
Houstonia, . 
Ivy, .... 
Iris, .... 
Jasmine, White, 
Jacob's Ladder, 



Sentiments. Page. 

Love at first sight, ..... 29 
Impatience of absence, .... 30 

Cheerfulness, 34 

Elegance and Dignity, .... 35 
Beauty and Innocence, ... 36 

Coquetry, 37 

Serenade, . • 38 

I wound to heal, 39 

Always remembered, .... 40 

Strength, 41 

True Love, 42 

Confidence in Heaven, .... 45 

Humble Love, 44 

True Friendship, 49 

Preference, 47 

Thou art changed, 46 

Recall, 48 

Tranquillity of Mind, .... 50 

Bonds of Affection, 51 

Mirth, 52 

Grief, 57 

Devotion, 58 

Solitude is sometimes best so- 
ciety, 59 

Domestic Happiness, .... 60 

Ambition, 53 

My love is sweet and secret, . 54 

Contentment, 55 

Wedded Love, 61 

I have a message for you, ... 62 

Amiability, 56 

Come down to me, 63 



THE BOUQUET. 



127 



Flower*. 

Laburnum, . . 
Larkspur, . . . 
Laurustiuus, . . 
Lavender, . . . 
Lily, White, . . 
Lily of the Valley, 
London Pride, . 
Love-lies-bleeding, 
Locust, .... 
Love-in-a-mist, . 
Lupine, . . . 
Marygold, French, 
Meadow Saffron, 
Mignonette, . . 

toe, . . . 
Mimosa, .... 

Moss, 

Myrtle, .... 
Narcissus, False, 
Narcissus, Poet's, 

Oats, 

Oleander, . . . 
Orange Blossom, 

Parsley 

Pansy, .... 
Passion Flower, . 
Pea, Everlasting, 
Pea, Sweet, . . 
Periwinkle, Blue, 
Phlox, .... 



Sentiments. P»S*- 

Pensive Beauty, 64 

Fickleness, 66 

I die if neglected, 65 

Acknowledgment, 67 

Purity and Sweetness, .... 70 

Delicate Simplicity 71 

Frivolity, 69 

Hopeless, not heartless, .... 68 
Affection beyond the grave, . . 72 

You puzzle me, 73 

Dejection, Sorrow, 74 

Jealousy, 75 

I do not fear to grow old, ... 76 
Your qualities surpass your love- 
liness, 77 

I surmount all difficulties, . . 78 

Sensitiveness, 79 

Maternal Love, 81 

Love in absence, 80 

Delusive Hope, 82 

Self-love, Egotism, 83 

Music, 84 

Beware! 85 

Your purity equals your love- 
liness, 86 

Feasting, Entertainment, . . b7 
Tender and pleasant thoughts, 88 

Religious Fervor, 89 

Wilt thou go with me? ... 90 

Departure, 91 

Sweet Remembrances, ... 92 
Our souls are united, .... 93 



1-23 



THE BOUQUET 



Flower*. 

Vink, White, . 
Tink, Red, . . . 

P°ppy> Red » • • 
Poppy, White, . 
Primrose, . . . 
Primrose, Evening, 
Rose, Austrian, . 

Bridal, . . 

Damask, . 

Moss, . . 

China, . . 

White, . . 

Yellow, . . 
Rosemary, . . 

Sage 

Snowdrop, . . 
Speedwell, . . . 
Star of Bethlehem, 
St. John's Wort, 
Sunflower, Dwarf, 
Sweetbrier, . . 
Tulip, Red, . . 
Verbena, . . . 
Violet, .... 
Wallflower, . . 
Water Lily, . . 
Weeping Willow, 
Woodbine, . . . 
Yarrow, . . . 

Yew, 

Zinnia, .... 



Sentimeuta. Page. 

Lovely and pure affection, . . 94 

Woman's Love, 95 

Forgetfulness, or Consolation, . 96 

Sleep of the heart, 97 

Early Youth, 98 

Inconstancy, 99 

Thou art all that 's lovely, . .100 

Happy Love, 101 

Bashful Love, 102 

Superior Merit, 103 

Grace, 104 

Sadness, 105 

Infidelity, 106 

Remembrance, 107 

Domestic Virtues, 108 

Consolation, 109 

Fidelity, 110 

Light of our path, Ill 

Animosity, 112 

Your devout adorer, .... 113 

Poetry, . . » 114 

A declaration of love, ... 1 15 

Sensibility, 11G 

Modesty, 117 

Fidelity in misfortune, . . .118 

Eloquence, 119 

Forsaken, 120 

Fraternal Love, 121 

Thou alone canst cure, . . .122 

Penitence, 123 

Absence, 124 



m 10